Endless Numbered Days
by Fatal Yaoi
Summary: Chris wakes up in his old S.T.A.R.S apartment with Captain Albert Wesker at his door- after already living fifteen years of his life. Is he living some weird dream or has he actually been sent back in time? (Non-Supernatural) Eventual Chris/Wesker Post RE6
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. If I did, Wesker would rule the world with Chris as his sex slave. But that's only because I've been watching too much Spartacus lately. Yess._

**Author's Note: Here is a commission written for Decapitated Panda that took far too long for me to finish of which I'm turning into a series! Hope you all enjoy! Every Saturday, a new chapter will be released and this will be quite a long story with possibly a sequel if you guys want one. **

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**All Truth Is Simple, Is That Not Doubly A Lie?**

**-_Unknown_**

Chris nudged open the front door of his apartment and stumbled inside. Jill's grip on his upper arm hardened and she sighed as she threw her hand against the wall and hit the light switch. They had just entered Chris' flat which was a simple studio. Chris's bed was beside the brown couch that sat directly in front of them. His bed was unmade and the blankets were tossed around as if barely used. The kitchen was to the left with a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and a mix of clean and dirty pots piled on the stove. To the right was a door that led to the bathroom and that was Chris' flat.

The floor was littered with clothing both clean and dirty and Jill secretly wished she could see the brown carpet she knew hid beneath it all. A desk was pressed against the wall beside Chris' bed and Jill sighed when she saw the shirt covered his open laptop. The apartment lacked any personal belongings; no pictures of family or friends. It was just a place for him to sleep, eat, and wash himself. It wasn't _home_.

"Come on, Chris," Jill sighed as she led him to his bed.

"S'all my fault, y'know," he muttered in a slur.

"You're drunk, Chris. You aren't making any sense," Jill stated almost robotically before letting him go on his bed. He fell and accepted the position he fell in choosing not to move when Jill sat in the broken computer chair beside him. "What have you done to yourself, Chris?"

"He'd be so disappointed," Chris ranted. "He'd hate me…. Like the day he found me."

"Who are you ranting about, Chris?" Jill asked carefully.

"Piers."

Jill was taken aback by the confession.

Chris hadn't spoken of Piers in months. The brunet had barely spoken of that day to anyone, including Jill, and suddenly he wouldn't shut up about it. There were tears in his eyes as his head turned into his pillow and he slammed his fist against the cushion drunkenly. There was only so much he could do and crying had never been an option. He _watched_ Piers sacrifice himself and Chris hadn't cried. The BSAA held a funeral of sorts, and still he did not cry.

"He didn't—He didn't deserve it. _I_ did, Jill! I should have died!" Most of Chris' words were slurred and muffled due to the pillow over his mouth but Jill heard enough.

"He died because he was protecting his captain. He died and saved the world, Chris. Piers Nivans is a hero and you need to see that he saw potential in you and you are letting it go to waste. I love you, Chris, but you are killing yourself this way. You're right, Piers wouldn't be happy, but he would _keep trying_ because Piers cared for you and still does wherever he is."

Chris tilted his head from the pillow and pushed himself into a sitting position. He closed his eyes and stabilized himself. His fists opened and closed and he got a handful of pillowcase. He opened his eyes and met Jill's confused but stern face and with a grunt, spoke.

"He's dead, Jill. He doesn't do anything anymore."

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><p>Waking up, Chris passively wondered when he had fallen asleep. He kept his eyes shut out of fear that light would give him the searing headache he fully expected to erupt the moment his eyelids rose. He couldn't hear shuffling of any sort and assumed Jill left the previous night. He groaned as he was suddenly aware of the muscles aching in their joints and he wondered if he took a fall that he couldn't remember.<p>

With a deep sigh, he opened one eye and his blurry morning gaze fell on the ceiling. Another eye opened and he grunted in appreciation for the lack of forehead splitting pain. His head fell to the left and his eyes found something he truly didn't expect—a closet.

He didn't _have_ a closet; especially not one with two sliding doors.

No, he had a dresser.

Chris sat up and his bare feet touched soft carpet; he didn't have soft carpet either. He had gross, brown carpet that hadn't been changed since the late seventies. And he was pretty sure he fell asleep with shoes on.

Looking around, his eyes found an old Windows desktop on a desk in the corner beside the closet, a dresser beside his bed, and a thick brown television atop a second dresser. This wasn't his flat but it certainly wasn't Jill's either.

He stood and found himself lacking the usual dizziness he felt from drinking but instead felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He had been here before in this very spot; he remembered the bed, the closet, and the television but where was he? Why was everything so familiar?

He grunted under his breath and took long striding steps towards the door before opening, almost hesitantly. He poked his head out and looked down the hall where he could see a bathroom and the split between the living room and the kitchen.

"H-Hello?" he called before sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

No response.

He slipped out of the door and took two steps into the hallway, his head peeking into the dark bathroom before continuing. He reached the end of the hall and straightened in his spot as his eyes fell on the living room that he suddenly remembered.

A brown suede couch was pressed against the opposite wall. Two windows with closed vertical blinds and the front door also shared the wall. Across from the couch was the big screen television—the television Claire bought him when he told her STARS approved his resume and he would be an official member. A shelf sat just above the television, about a foot from the ceiling, that held pictures; There was one of Claire's high school graduation, one of he and Jill, and the last was the STARS team taken three months after the beginning of STARS.

This was _his_ living room.

This was _his _living room from STARS.

Chris ignored the remainder of the house and quickly rushed into the dining room. The table pressed against the wall held fruit and tossed mail from the day before. A puppy calendar, hung by Claire, was nailed to the wall above the table.

_March_.

Chris pulled the calendar from the wall, ripping the top and leaving it pinned to the wall, and looked at the front of the calendar.

_1997_.

It had been a year since STARS was created.

But _how_?

A heavy knocking startled him and he was on his way to his front door. Without thinking, he opened his door and found Albert Wesker standing at his door. Albert was wearing his STARS uniform, what he usually wore in office, with his blonde hair gelled back and sunglasses in place over his nose. His thin lips twisted into a smirk as he lowered his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and gave Chris a once over with his dull grey eyes.

"Wesker," Chris growled.

"Mr. Redfield," the blonde stated and his eyes traveled south yet again.

Chris followed his eyes and found himself in his boxers—_only_ his boxers.

"Oh."

"I suppose you aren't ready, then?" the blond asked.

"Ready for what?" Chris asked before shifting uncomfortably in his spot.

"Work, Christopher. You requested a ride yesterday, did you not?"

Chris nodded slowly, eyeing the blond carefully. Even in his tired state, a plan was hatching within his mind. Albert Wesker didn't know Chris was fully aware of his plan and Chris was going to stop him before anything occurred. Chris placed a cold smile on his lips and stepped aside, opening his door wider.

"Sorry, Captain, I had a hard night. I'll run and get ready. Come on in."

"Very well, I suppose," the blond muttered and slipped inside.

Chris closed the door and turned on his heel.

"I'll be back. Again, sorry," Chris stated and took large strides back to his room.

Chris shut his door and pressed his back against the wall, chills running up his back as his warm back collided with the cold door. He took deep breaths and began looking around, finding his gun where it usually was—his desk. He set the handgun down and quickly dressed into his work clothes while he mused over his many options.

Simply killing Wesker now would raise questions in places where questions truly shouldn't be raised. His entire team would see him as the traitor and he would become a fugitive which was _not_ an option.

He needed proof of Umbrella's involvement in the mansion far up in the mountains and he could go up that weekend to check it out, possibly with Jill. Until then, he would need to play STARS Chris Redfield.

A thought loomed in the back of his mind that scared him far more than he would ever let on. What if every little detail in his life that he currently had, was a dream? An incredibly vivid, drunken dream? He was sure his current situation wasn't a dream but that didn't mean his anxiety didn't fuck with him.

Chris tucked his gun into his holster and crossed from his bedroom to the bathroom where he quickly splashed water over his short hair. He eyed himself in the mirror, nodded to himself, and slipped out of the bathroom to find Albert Wesker standing stock still in the place Chris had left him.

"You're not the greatest guest, are you?" Chris muttered, a hand hovering on his hip beside the gun available to him.

"I suppose not."

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><p>Driving to the police department, Chris felt far too tense. The amount of knowledge he held with Albert completely unbeknownst to it made the brunet smile in dark ways. The blond would not win this time. Chris didn't <em>care<em> how he managed to go back in time or whatever was going on but he was going to fix things.

"What did your night consist of?" Albert asked, most likely to fight the awkward air.

"Dreams about betrayal, friends dying, STARS crumbling—"

"Seems you have some subconscious issues to deal with."

"My issues _aren't_ subconscious. I am aware of my issues and plan on dealing with them accordingly."

"It seems you have it planned out," Albert stated.

"Yeah, you have to when you're dealing with things as tricky as dreams," Chris muttered and shifted his grip on the top of his handgun.

Albert hummed in response and pulled into the station. He parked in the space with his name on it and turned off the car. He unbuckled his seatbelt before saying, "Christopher, before we go—"

"Yeah?" Chris asked, halfway out of the door.

Albert kept an eye on him and Chris sighed, pulling himself back into the car and shutting the door.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I fear your dream has caused high hostility towards me. I'm going to have to ask you to stop."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Captain," Chris muttered, eyes forward and fingers dancing on his hip.

"Your hand hasn't left your gun, you refuse to look at me, and you sound as if it pains you to call me by my title. But please, insist you don't know what I speak of," Albert stated.

Chris twisted his head to look at Albert and he felt a rush of disgust and anger. He looked away and took a deep breath. The blond made an understanding noise and shook his head.

"Is this going to be a problem, Christopher?"

"No, I'll be fine. Just give me a few hours. The dream was just…. Really vivid."

"Most nightmares are," Albert sighed. "Very well. However, today is one of our hand-to-hand exercises. I hope you are able to look beyond the dream by then."

"I will, Captain," Chris whispered, his eyes in his lap.

"It was just a dream, Chris," the blond said hopefully and patted Chris on the shoulder, making the brunet jump and grab for his gun before realizing the blond wasn't trying to strangle him. "It was a dream, Christopher. We have work to do."

"Fine."

The anger coursing through Chris was fluid and the brunet was momentarily deaf as the blood pounding in his ears made him lightheaded. He had to look at this from a Captain point of view—the captain Piers wanted him to be. He had to be levelheaded and not ruin anything.

This could prevent everything.

Walking up to the old police department caused a deep root of guilt rush through him. The last time he had been here, he had just lost over half of his closest friends and was leaving Raccoon City behind. Soon after, the town was gone. And now he found himself walking into the building beside the man behind it all.

He was beginning to feel sick again as a strong sense of nostalgia washed over him.

He led the way through the station until they reached the STARS Alpha office. The hallways felt so familiar yet he forgot where most of the doors led. He even stuck his head into some of the open ones to find remarkably recognizable rooms. The blond simply allowed Chris to do it, his eyebrow raised with his hands locked behind his back as they walked and sometimes stopped.

Stepping into the office, however, he knew exactly what was going to happen but not before it actually happened, of course.

Jill slapped him.

Chris reeled as the mix of déjà vu and pain made him suddenly very lightheaded. A flash of memories suddenly became apparent to him as, word for word, he could recall what Jill was going to say next as she said it.

"You bastard!" She snapped.

Jill Valentine had taken a really, really long time to warm up to Chris. It was far from an instant connection after this incident and Chris constantly took verbal beatings from the woman until he saved her on one of their missions. She forgave him after that and they grew close but she joked with him often about it and refused to ever let the male forget what he had done.

By the time Chris recovered from the hit, her arms were crossed and her icy glare had transformed into a guilty face as she glanced at their captain. His cheek stung from impact and a hand covered it delicately as he exchanged glances with Wesker.

"Miss Valentine—"

"No, it's fine," Chris mumbled as he rubbed at his cheek. "I stood her up on a date last night."

"Expressing your anger in the workplace is unprofessional, Miss Valentine. If you wish to do bodily harm to Mr. Redfield, please do it outside," Wesker stated with an appreciative nod. "Also, I would avoid dating within the workplace but I suppose that won't be much of an issue." Wesker paused and smirked at Jill's red cheeks before beginning to walk away. "Our meeting begins at noon. Please be present, angry or not."

Wesker vanished into his office and closed his door, leaving Jill, Chris, and the remainder of Alpha in the office. Coworkers among the office continued about their business, typing away at desktops around the room. It was dead silent besides the clicking of keyboard keys one after another as reports, or random words in cases like Brad who enjoyed drama.

"How _dare_ you?" Jill hissed.

"I was a little preoccupied last night," Chris said lamely though he truly could not remember what the event had been that forced him to completely forget the date.

"Doing what? What was so important that you left me sitting in a restaurant in a skin tight dress for two hours with an underwire digging so deep into my underarm, I bled? This isn't counting the two hours I took trying to get ready for your sorry ass—" Oh yes, Chris remembered this.

"So what do you want me to do, Jill? I'm sorry but maybe W—_Captain_ Wesker is right. Dating in the workplace just isn't a good idea," Chris stated.

"Oh no, I don't mind dating in the workplace. I just won't be dating _you_ and considering I'm the only woman on STARS… well… have fun with Barry," she sneered before storming towards her desk and away from Chris.

"Hey, I'm married! Don't bring me into this," Barry chimed from his desk.

Chris looked from Barry, who exchanged glances with him, to Jill who was physically shaking with anger. He felt guilty but there was far too much going on. He didn't understand what could be possibly going on but he knew it wasn't good. He didn't remember quite a lot of things from STARS, what happened next, being one of them. He wanted to do exactly what he had done before, he realized changing anything could put him into some trouble and it didn't help that he thought of himself as a different person than he was in this moment.

Chris sunk into his chair and sighed. This was bad.

The one person he trusted to tell exactly what was going on currently hated him and his mortal enemy was his superior.

Now, he just had to remember what he had done _exactly_ to get Jill un-mad at him which would be far more difficult than it should be considering she was his best friend but he was a guy, after all.

"Chris?" it was Barry—right, they were actually pretty close during this time. Chris had long lost touch with him after the Raccoon City incident but Chris was sure he was doing well with his family, he just wanted to stay away from the B.O.W business and Chris respected that.

"Yeah, Barry?"

"Are you okay? You seem really out of it and you never would have passed a date with Jill, busy or not. Is something going on? Is Claire okay?"

Claire! Right, she was in college. Chris could always talk to her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Barry." Chris said with a quick smile. "Claire's fine but I do miss her. I just think I shouldn't be dating right now. I have a lot to build with my career and if something was to happen to me—" Chris trailed off with a sigh. "I think I'm going to fly Claire down and spend some time with her for the holidays."

"I think that would be a good idea but you know how the captain is about holidays—just be careful with how you go about it."

"Thanks, Barry. How's your wife?"

Chris knew the answer to this.

"She's good, worries about me a lot, though," Barry sighed and crossed his arms.

"At least you know she cares," Chris said with a shrug and a laugh.

"Yeah but sometimes it makes me want to spend a little extra time at the shooting range, you know?"

Chris really didn't know.

"Yeah, I know," Chris faked a laugh.

"Redfield!"

Chris cringed—Albert Wesker hadn't said his name like that since, well, now.

"He doesn't seem to be in the best of moods," Barry muttered. "G'luck."

Chris hummed in response and stood. He made his way to the blonde's office and peaked inside—just like he remembered it, empty of all personal items, dark, and piles of paper stacked in various spots across the desk. Wesker sat behind the desk, sunglasses in place and a stack of papers in front of him.

"Yes, Captain?" The word felt dirty to his mouth.

This man was the reason ninety percent of his co-workers will die in less than two years. This man is planning to completely betray them. This man who will also die in less than two years before being reborn into just another one of the B.O.W monsters.

Albert Wesker.

"You didn't submit the required paperwork from the Harker drug bust."

It was such a simple request from a boss but from Albert Wesker it felt like a giant, stabbing lie that was making its way through Chris' soul. How exactly was he supposed to just play it cool?

"Uh yeah, I should have it in my desk."

He sure as hell hoped he did because he definitely didn't remember a damn thing about that drug bust.

"Submit it immediately, please," Wesker commanded politely.

Chris nodded and was about to turn around and leave but he stopped—Wesker saw this.

"Something else, Redfield?"

"Do you know Sherry Birkin?" Chris asked carefully.

Wesker froze and Chris realized just how stupid the question was—Sherry Birkin was William Birkin's daughter and William Birkin was the one who created the G-virus and worked with Umbrella and Wesker himself. In reality, Chris just wanted to make sure Sherry was okay but he supposed that was Leon's jurisdiction, not his.

"Nevermind," Chris said with a shrug. "I shouldn't have asked."

"How do you know Miss Birkin?"

"I don't—" Oh god, he needed a lie. "My sister knows her and apparently she talked about you. She babysat her when she was younger." Does that lie work? Chris quickly did the math in his head—yeah, Sherry was nine, that could work.

"I don't recall her parents hiring a babysitter…" Wesker trailed off carefully.

The bastard was trying to catch Chris in his lie.

"Well, they did. Claire said they work a lot and needed someone to watch her but apparently she knew you. I was just curious," Chris said with a shrug. "I'll go get that paper."

Leon and Claire would handle it when it came time, for now, Chris had an entire team to worry about.

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><p><strong>So I'm not even completely finished with this story as I should be but hopefully I won't fall behind. If I do, I'll just break it up into more parts than I have already broken it up into. Currently, it will be a two part story. A third may be added. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed it and whether I get any reviews on this or not, another will be up next Saturday!<strong>

**-Fatal Yaoi**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I'm already super behind because I decided to redesign the entire story like yesterday. Might be broken into a few parts, guys!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**A Good Plan Violently Executed Now Is Better Than A Perfect Plan Executed Next Week**

**-_George S Patton_**

Chris had his head in his hands, elbows digging into the tops of his thighs as he sighed heavily. After gaining a paper cut by one of the stacks of paper he was moving from his desk, he realized just how far deep into shit he was. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a fucking dream. This was his life so now he sat in a bathroom stall with his head in his hands while his mind quickly began running out of options.

Chris thought of killing Wesker. The blond could be stopped if he didn't see it coming, of course, but what would that mean for Chris? His colleagues would catch him within days and he would be punished and Umbrella would continue on. Even if he _could_ kill Wesker without his colleagues finding out, Wesker was their connection to Umbrella—his only connection. If he was going to take them down, Wesker needed to be alive; for now.

He could warn his colleagues but with no proof there was little to tell. Jill would prefer to see Chris fired than to even consider what he said and Barry wouldn't risk his job to back him with no evidence. Chris didn't blame him, of course, he would do the same.

There was only way of going about this—Treat it like he _had_ lived it before. Use his knowledge to throw Wesker off his guard maybe outsmart him at his own game. If it was one thing Chris hated, it was playing one of Wesker's games but Chris could make it his now.

"Hey, Chris, you in here?"

It was Barry's voice echoing in the bathroom.

"Yeah, sorry, got distracted," Chris spoke simply as he pushed out of the bathroom stall.

"With what, exactly?" Barry asked with a chuckle.

Chris laughed and shook his head.

"I keep getting distracted with my thoughts. Like I said before, I miss Claire."

Barry chuckled and crossed his arms.

"Well, Captain has his demo today. You know how he is about those things."

Chris actually didn't remember them in the slightest. They simply didn't stand out in his mind and these demonstration classes seemed fairly new from the responses of the team as he and Barry arrived to the basement of the Raccoon City Police Department. It was a gym of sorts built specifically for the STARS team to practice. A room off to the right of the large room led to the shooting range used by the entire department and a room to the left led to the locker rooms. Wesker stood in front of blue cushioned pads on the ground covering a large area.

Joseph, Jill, and Brad were already awaiting Barry and Chris and it seemed Chris was actually the one holding them up.

Wesker gave an unappreciative smirk and hooked his hands behind his back at Chris' entrance beside Barry.

"Now that you've finally graced us with your presence, Redfield, we may begin. I appreciate you fetching him, Mr. Burton."

"'Course," Barry muttered with a nod before joining the group standing in front of Wesker.

Chris sighed and stepped forward beside Jill who growled under her breath and took a step closer to Joseph. Chris accepted the action and looked towards Wesker who noticed her movement but chose to ignore it.

"I called this demonstration due to Mr. Vickers' latest injury during our last mission-"

"Sorry, again, Captain," Brad muttered, interrupting the blond.

"Don't interrupt me, Vickers."

"Right, sorry."

"I would like to introduce the concept of concealed weapons."

"Concept? As if we didn't know people conceal weapons?" Jill asked, crossing her arms.

"I would apologize, however you certainly don't take the needed precautions you were trained to do when entering an insecure area so yes, I'm assuming the Alpha team cannot possibly comprehend the idea of concealed weapons. I don't believe I owe an apology. Redfield, step onto the mat, if you will," it wasn't a question, Chris knew that, so he did as he was asked concealing the glare he shot to the blond.

Chris stepped onto the padded material and immediately could recall this moment. This was the moment he ended up on his back with Wesker straddling him, a knife to his throat and both of his hands secured by the wrists with Wesker's right hand. Chris began to summon the experience he gained the past ten years of being in combat because he was going to prove Wesker wrong. This was the start of his plan, it had to be.

"I have a concealed weapon," Wesker stated simply.

Chris remembered- his shoe; Wesker's left shoe to be specific.

"Mr. Redfield doesn't know where the weapon is being held nor does he know what weapon it is."

Then it struck Chris- maybe the blond had another concealed weapon.

_This better be impressive _Chris thought to himself as Wesker turned on his heel and stepped onto the mat as well.

"I expect you are prepared?"

Chris gave a firm nod. Wesker was going to lunge as if the knife is in his sleeve but at the last second, he'll crouch and trip Chris in one swift movement.

Chris will have to avoid being tripped. He could do that- right?

Wesker smirked and began at him, his left hand dipping into his right sleeve just as Chris remembered it. His eyes, however, stayed on Wesker's left hand. That would be the hand to pull the knife out of his boot where it sat in wait.

Chris waited until the opportune moment and just when Wesker ducked down, Chris pounced over the blond completely and rolled on the safety of the mat. Wesker, by this point, had straightened, knife in hand, before turning on his heel. Chris, however, was already on the attack with his leg in the air ready to kick the knife from Wesker's grip. Wesker saw this, ducked, and attempted to repeat the attack by tripping Chris.

Chris tripped but rolled out of reach and quickly stood with a huff.

"Unexpected," Wesker muttered with raised eyebrows. His grey eyes sparkled in lights hanging above and he glanced to the group.

Chris ignored the blond and attacked, again aiming for the knife. Wesker, not expecting the attack, moved to switch the knife to his right hand but, instead, Chris knocked it out of the air and to the ground. It hit with a clatter just off the mat and slid several inches before stopping.

Chris straightened and sighed, catching his breath quickly. Wesker smirked and raised his hand to reveal the magnum in his left hand.

"Too late, Redfield, you're dead."

Chris sighed and stared at the blond for a moment. Chris saw that coming and he managed to fuck it up _again_.

"It was impressive nonetheless," Wesker stated.

It was a taunt, Chris could feel the smugness through the meaningless words.

"Yeah 'course it was," Chris muttered.

Chris returned to the group and avoided the harsh gaze by Jill. Barry pat him roughly on the back but, truly, it only stung more due to just how realistic everything was. His teammate's lives hung in the balance and if he was able to change things, he could save them all. He could even save Piers some time down the line because he had an advantage that nobody else had- not even the great Albert Wesker and that thought along put a smirk on his face.

* * *

><p>Returning home that night was difficult for Chris. The brunet barely remembered where he lived let alone what was going to happen the following day and, to say the least, he felt panicked sitting in the passenger seat beside Wesker. He didn't speak- he didn't feel the need to speak. Chris had his mind on issues that were truly beyond him and questions swirled over and over in his mind. Everything from <em>how did I even get here <em>to _am I really expected to relive the next sixteen years of my life to fix everything that's ever fucked up_ and he was slowly falling deeper and deeper into the hole he had somehow managed to avoid the majority of the day yet the moment he is sitting beside his enemy his mind suddenly wants to throw him into pits of self pity.

"You're quiet," Wesker stated simply eyes on the dark road in front of them.

Chris had to, unfortunately, rely on Wesker for a ride to retrieve his car to avoid any other awkward car rides with him and it was painful. Hell, even looking at the blond was painful because despite knowing exactly what was going on behind those beady grey eyes, Chris saw his old captain. The captain he put his life on the line for time and time again. The captain that did the same for him. The captain that Chris trusted more than anyone he had ever trusted before.

"Yeah, just thinking."

Chris couldn't respond more than that. He felt sick being so close to the man who fucked him over so harshly.

"Have you spoken to your sister recently?"

Chris' stomach twisted and he was sure this conversation never happened but he couldn't be sure at this point. But if he was truthful, he wasn't very _sure_ about anything. He remembered things vaguely if at all and he just happened to recall them as they happened which sent him into a bad spiral of déjà vu that in turn made his head to spin. Maybe this was the reason why he was feeling sick, he mused as he fought an oncoming headache.

"No, I haven't, why?" Chris asked carefully hoping his sharp tone wasn't as apparent as he thought it was.

"I apologize, I know she is a rather sore subject-" Wesker trailed off and the silence returned.

Chris groaned internally letting out a sigh before turning his head towards the window to gaze at the night walkers of Raccoon City and the bright lights of the restaurants and stores that lines the streets. He enjoyed this town and felt a rush of guilt as he realized just how much he missed it. The people were caring, the town was compact, the businesses were homely and family run, and the most that ever really happened were pathetic drug busts on the edge of town in the abandoned warehouses or somewhere deep within the woods where most would never venture. There was rarely a murder or any real crime and when there were untrustworthy brutes making their way into town the police usually knew about it ahead of time and could take care of it themselves. STARS was quiet more often than not but they were also the ones called at four in the morning for a drug raid so it was a bit of a tradeoff, Chris assumed.

"She isn't a sore subject," Chris said. "I'm just tired."

"Right, the terror from last night."

"Yeah, it kept me awake most of the night. That's why I was running late this morning and why I'm snappy now. I just want to get my car, go home, and go to bed."

"Well, we are nearing the repair shop," Wesker assured him.

Chris didn't feel assured. He felt overwhelmed, lonely, desperate- nothing anywhere near assured.

"Yeah, thanks," Chris muttered dully.

* * *

><p>Walking into his apartment was bittersweet. He half expected Jill to be waiting for him with a beer, a movie, and a story about some guy she was dating. Instead, he was doomed to step inside his dark living room alone possibly for a long, long time. This alone made him want to call his sister but it's not as if simply talking to her will do much besides bother her so he decided against it rather quickly.<p>

Instead, he closed the door and sulked deeper into his living room. He sat on the sofa and glanced around in a melancholy sadness of sorts.

The room smelled the same. It smelled like his old apartment. It smelled like hope, passion, and good memories and despite the good feeling the smell was attempting to summon within him he just felt sick. It all felt wrong. Not because he had lived it before but because it didn't feel as it should possibly because he had no idea what reliving your glory years before things went to shit really was supposed to feel like. Was he supposed to be happy he got a second chance after he had already accepted everyone's deaths? Was he supposed to strive to save the world again and fall into the pit that was his mind when he failed?

That was rather unfair, he mused. How did he exactly know he was going to fail?

He dismissed the thought and sat back against the cool material of the couch allowing it to sink into his STARS uniform and cool his warm skin beneath the clothing. His head lulled back and he stared at the white blotched ceiling he remembered far too well.

Everything that had happened in his life had a reason behind it. Zombies took over Raccoon City because of a biological effect created by Umbrella- Giant mutated monsters were created out of it and from that came organizations fighting them. So what could possibly explain his getting sent back in time?

No biological virus to date had effect that made you hallucinate or anything really explainable, Chris was sure- Chris was painfully sure. His mind leaned back and forth at the thought of his entire life being a lie and instead simply being a drunken dream brought on by his guilt of skipping out on Jill and his 'déjà vu' was really just him convincing himself his life wasn't a lie. Then a rational part of him would chime in, of course, and say he remembered hurting, bleeding, being near death on more than one occasion and he remembered every moment of it. His life wasn't a broken messy dream- it was _real_. But _this_ was also real.

For now, unfortunately, Chris would just have to live the life he already lived because without really knowing exactly what was happening, he couldn't exactly act accordingly and with no way of getting back- well, he was stuck.

Even with that thought, he couldn't help feeling guilty. All he wanted was out but, really, if what was happening was as real as it felt, he could save countless lives from Umbrella's mistake. Hell, at this point, he was the _only_ one who could.

Despite having been the captain to the BSAA for several years, this was, to date, on the most stressful tasks he had ever had thrown at him and possibly would ever have thrown at him. This was assuming he made it out of _whatever this was _alive.

* * *

><p>Chris awoke stiff and hungry curled on the couch the following morning. He seemed to have forgotten about food all day and hadn't even bothered taking off his uniform which was now twisted and choking him in his awkward sleeping position. Light was shining through the windows behind the couch and bouncing off of the television across from him. Above the television, the clock read sometime after six thankfully giving him some time to clean himself up and eat whatever he could find, really.<p>

He pushed himself up with weak arms and yawned involuntarily as he inched off of the couch and into a standing position. His mouth was dry and sticky and his scalp itched for a shower. He made the decision mentally to take care of both issues after shutting off the light he had left on the night before. He yawned again and made his way to the bathroom to shed his clothes and step into the shower- after he figured out how to work it, of course.

The shower was refreshing and, much like everything around him, bittersweet. It awoke him to his reality of still being stuck in his STARS days when, even for five minutes, his sleep haze had blocked the thought from his mind and he was at peace. For a long moment, he just wished to have those five minutes back. To lay on the couch newly awake and unknowing of the horrors the days eventually to come would bring.

Chris dressed in his uniform, changing his white and green undershirt to one fresher and not recently slept in. He tossed his uniform jacket over his shoulder and moved his socked feet towards the kitchen. He made his way onto the linoleum floor but before he could step towards the fridge, the phone beside the couch rang.

Chris frowned and walked swiftly to pick it up, raising the receiver to his ear before speaking.

"Hello?"

"Chris! I'm glad I caught you before work!"

Chris' heart sank and he smiled to himself.

"Hey, Claire. It's been a while."

The words came out before he could really stop them. In his reality, he hadn't spoken to Claire in over a year. When he lost his memory, Claire went with it and he was missing for quite some time without her even knowing it. Then he was being thrown into another mission with Piers and when Piers died he lost all motivation to speak to anyone. Even Jill annoyed him at times but now he'd give anything for the brunet to talk to him again.

"It's only been a week," she laughed.

A week. Only a week. Chris suddenly wanted to return to his own reality if only to call his sister.

"W-Well, I worry about you," Chris gave a fake laugh to play off his own guilt.

"Spring break is coming up-"

"I was going to call you about that," Chris said, taking a seat on the couch.

"Did you not want me to come?"

"No, I wanted to invite you here. I thought maybe you would like to spend some time here?"

"Oh," Claire commented quietly.

Chris' spirits immediately fell at the disappointment in her voice. It was subtle but Chris knew his sister better than anyone. He wanted more than anything to spend time with the one person in this reality that could give him some sort of consolation but not at the expense of her happiness.

"But, you know, my place is small and you probably want to spend it with your friends," Chris said slowly. "I'm sure you wanted to spend it with one of your friends, anyway."

"Boyfriend, actually," Claire muttered.

Chris sighed heavily. He was never aware Claire had a boyfriend at this time. In fact, he specifically remembered Claire spending Thanksgiving with him and not saying a thing about it.

"Well, have fun then," Chris said his voice teeming with sarcasm and a bit of anger but none necessarily directed at Claire. He rubbed his eyes aggressively with his free hand and stood back up.

"Chris, I'm so-"

"No it's fine. I have work. I'll call you later," Chris muttered. "Love you." He didn't wait for a response before setting the phone back in it's place rather forcefully.

Chris wasn't as alone as he thought, he was aware. Even as he made his way back to the kitchen and began venturing through the fridge, his mind wandered to Barry. There was nobody he could exactly speak to about his issue but he could sure as hell treat Barry like the friend he was.

After several minutes of searching through cupboard, Chris gave up and simply pulled on his jacket, grabbed his keys, and went out the front door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I do NOT have chapter 4 finished oh dear. Also, I apologize for this being a few hours late. I fell asleep early last night and I went out tonight and between then and now, I just did not remember! Thank you person on AO3 for reminding me! Wish me luck on the next chapter! There will be a short two-three week hiatus at chapter 5, I believe. No promises. That's the plan at this point.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 3:<strong>

**The Only Way to Have a Friend is to Be One**

_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Chris walked into the STARS office that morning and bypassed the empty desks of Jill and Joseph who had yet to arrive. Brad was sitting in his chair, typing away at a large computer and smiling stupidly at Chris who nodded back. Chris arrived at his own desk and tossed his keys into the top drawer, a morning ritual he had yet to forget. Barry rose from his desk and greeted Chris by taking the brunette's desk chair and sitting in it himself.

"Did Claire call?" Barry asked with a grin that Chris returned despite his current feeling.

"Yeah, she's spending Spring Break with her boyfriend," Chris paused and narrowed his eyes at the older man. "_Why_?"

"I called her last night to see how she was and you may or may not have come up," Barry admitted bashfully. He shrugged and Chris rolled his eyes.

"What did she say?"

"She misses you."

Chris scoffed and shook his in disbelief, his smile fading almost immediately. It was his job to be there for his sister which meant to make her happy but he _needed_ her right now. If he did choose to tell anyone about his current position, she would have been it. Unfortunately for Chris, she was no longer an option which left him with no options left if he had any to begin with.

"She's spending her holiday off with her boyfriend," Chris repeated and leaned back against his desk.

"What about Summer?" Barry asked with interest.

Chris shrugged, "I hung up before I got to ask. Wasn't the best thing to do, I'm sure."

"You okay?"

"Aren't I always?" Chris asked with an ambiguous shrug. "I just thought maybe she would want to spend some time with me as much as I wanted to spend some with her."

"I'm sure she does. She really does miss you," Barry said with a sad smile. "You know, when Kathy and I began dating seriously, we struggled during the holidays and when we had time off, we would avoid spending time with our family just because we were afraid. Neither of us wanted the other to meet their family just yet and we had to make our choices. I know how you are, Chris, and if she brought this guy around, you would put him through stress that may or may not kill him. You _do _work for Raccoon City's elite STARS team, after all." Barry grinned and Chris chuckled though there was a bitter undertone that he was sure Barry missed. "She's playing it safe until she's sure he won't leave her if you try to kill him or worse. Kathy did the same with her father."

"Yeah, I know," Chris sighed. "But there's nobody else around to be protective over her. It's just me. It's a stressful job."

Barry laughed and nodded with a smile. "You're doing a good job, your parents would be proud."

Chris shrugged, "I guess."

This was one of the main reasons why Barry was rarely seen around with Chris during their STARS days but Chris would never outwardly admit it. The man had an incessant need to bring up Chris' parents and Chris just wasn't one more reminiscing about them. They were, to say the least, an indefinite sore subject and Chris refused to speak about them to anyone besides Claire.

But Chris just couldn't deny Claire knowing her parents. She was a child when they died and though Chris' memory was limited, he filled in what he needed to when it was needed. Every once and a while, he would receive a call from a sad Claire requesting to hear about their parents and Chris would oblige as much as he could.

"How about we go for a drink after work? Kathy might not be happy watching the kids after she gets off but-"

"No, it's fine," Chris said with a quick smile. "I wouldn't want your wife getting angry at you."

"She wouldn't be _angry_-"

"Oh yes she would," Wesker's voice chimed.

Barry swiveled in Chris' chair and grinned at Wesker's comment. Chris looked at the blond but his neutral face stayed and he watched the man closely. Chris despised knowing what Wesker was going to do and the pain and misery Barry would surely be put through as he worked to protect his family even though it meant betraying his entire team.

"I apologize for eavesdropping but Mrs. Burton is-" Wesker smirked and raised a hand to motion he was thinking, "I believe the correct term would be… feisty."

Barry laughed heartily and Chris grimaced. Barry seemed so visibly happy. So unknowing of the horrors he would have to face when the time came. He, like everyone else, trusted Wesker and Chris couldn't decide whether he pitied them or envied them. Was it possible for both?

"That she is, sir. Hey, what are you doing next Friday night?"

Jill arrived somewhere behind Chris and he twisted around to glance at the brunet as Wesker answered. She either didn't see the look or ignored it as she hung her coat over the back of her chair and sat down at her computer.

"I believe I'll be spending it alone," the blond admitted with a sad smile.

"You know what?" Barry asked, glancing from Chris to Wesker. "I have a great idea."

"Great idea? Like the time you decided to throw a grenade into a stack of pillows?" Chris asked with a playful smirk.

It felt odd not having the head spinning déjà vu feeling after every minor event that happened around him but he was thankful nonetheless. It worried him that small events like _talking_ to someone could change the entire outcome of his life, essentially, but it's a thought he didn't enjoy dwelling on. The whole time travel thing always confused him to no end and as long as he changed certain things _purposely_ he hoped nothing major would change for the worse.

"I was young," Barry defended with a laugh.

Chris smiled at Jill's quiet laughter from behind him and he sighed as he longed to talk to her as a friend and not as a date gone wrong.

"You guys should come to my place for dinner. Everyone seems so down and Kathy would love to have company."

Wesker was first to open his mouth, "It sounds nice but I'm sure I'll be busy-"

"C'mon, Captain! Take a break for once and spend some time with your STARS family," Jill said with a laugh.

"You're invited, of course," Barry shot at her and she smiled.

"I'd love to, Barry, but I'm visiting my dad. I'm sure it won't take long so maybe I'll stop by?"

"Great," Barry said with a smile before turning to look back at Wesker who sighed.

"Christopher, will you also be accepting Mr. Burton's offer?"

Wesker only ever considered calling _Chris_ by his first name. Chris never heard the blond refer to anyone else on the team by anything but their surname. Previously, it made him feel _special_. Now? It made him sick.

Chris sighed and looked at Barry who smiled his bearded smile with no care in the world.

"Yeah, might as well," Chris muttered, returning the smile.

"Then I, too, will accept," Wesker agreed with a nod.

"What about you, Brad?" Barry called, swiveling smoothly in Chris' chair until he caught Brad's eye.

"I'm spending next weekend with my parents. Thanks, though," Brad answered.

"Anyone know what Joseph's doing?"

"Spending it with his girlfriend, probably," Jill responded to Barry and Barry nodded.

"Alright then. Kathy will be excited."

Barry stood and offered Chris' chair back to Chris before returning to his desk. Chris took his seat and sat back. Kathy being anywhere near Wesker put him on edge. Wesker had this aura about him that made him seem like the loyal and trustworthy man the prick pretended to be. Unfortunately, this could mean he could threaten Barry's family at any time and get Barry working with him.

Though after a moment of considering this, Chris doubted Wesker would confront Barry unless absolutely needed. Wesker didn't need help now- he was busy with his cover and that was his job. Birkin took care of the rest, that much Chris was aware of. Wesker stopped in frequently but his place was in STARS which meant Barry would be useless to him at the moment.

Kathy was safe for now, hopefully.

Chris felt eyes on him as he suddenly became aware of his surroundings and he turned in his chair to find Wesker had yet to move from outside of his office. The blonde's eyes wandered around the room in boring interest before coming back and settling on Chris. Wesker smiled, his grey eyes sparkling with fake care that caused Chris' stomach to twist into painful knots. This, unlike the entire conversation that happened beforehand, happened and Chris was sure that when he and Wesker did this dance before, it was different. He couldn't quite remember how but it just _was_.

Chris gave a quick smile before twisting back around to drop it almost immediately.

He felt as if he was missing something- something his mind knew but refused to make known to him. This worried him but only vaguely. The post traumatic stress made him forget many, _many_ things and this could easily be one of them.

* * *

><p>It was difficult for Jill, Chris assumed, to have to work as cover for the man who stood her up on a date yet she remained professional as they made their way through the boarded up abandoned house. A concerned neighbor called the police when they saw men visiting the house but when they heard gun shots and screams, STARS was called.<p>

It was later the same day and the entirety of Alpha was present now. Bravo was unneeded due to the size of the house but this didn't worry Chris any less as he tried desperately hard to remember anything about this mission.

Wesker was securing the back and Chris was sent in as point-man through the front. Jill was instructed to cover him until Wesker met back up with them inside the house. Joseph followed after Wesker and Brad stayed outside to secure the outside area. Brad was more of the tech guy and he was left out of most of the physical stuff. This, luckily, worked rather well for him as he much preferred to stand outside a house with a gun in his hand than walk through a dark, dank house unsure of what was around every corner.

Chris snuck his way through the house, flashlight aimed in his left hand under the gun held by his right. Jill held a similar stance and remained close behind the male, eyes scanning the dark area frequently looking for both enemies and Wesker- though in Chris' mind, they were the one in the same.

Chris could see light shining through the cracks between the boards over the windows in the living room. Streams of light shot across the floor and molded over the dusty covered furniture causing flecks of dust to be seen floating aimlessly in the air. The carpet was dirty, walked on, and old.

The sound of a loud thud as Chris and Jill rounding the corner into the hallway that led to the kitchen, and assumedly the back door, caused the two to stop and listen. It was silent- the type of silent that made your ears rings and your heart race.

"Wait I see something," Chris heard and from the sound of Jill's shuffling, she heard it too.

"It's us," Chris answered as he recognized the voice as Joseph's.

Wesker rounded the corner first, flashlight aimed and passing over the two crouched figures before being directed to the ground.

"We took care of the security," Joseph stated quietly.

"Not much security by the sound of it," Chris muttered in response.

"Miss Valentine, you and Mr. Frost are to remain lookouts in the kitchen as Chris and I descend into the basement."

"Copy that," Jill responded with a nod.

"Chris, you're to remain as point-man and I will provide cover. It's the mid-day so I predict the bandits will be out, however, I would advise caution-"

"Okay," Chris stated quickly, cutting the blond off before turning on his heel and beginning towards the basement.

Chris didn't see Jill exchanged worried looks with Joseph or the way Wesker cocked his head in Chris' direction before following him but Chris could care less. Chris had been Captain himself, he didn't need to be told what to do. He knew the plan, he knew how to execute it; he wasn't a child.

And so, Chris did just that. He stepped up in the same way he always had working for the B.S.A.A and that was something that wouldn't leave him even if he was suddenly physically younger. He, emotionally, had already grown too much to simply retreat to following directions given by the man he technically killed four years before.

* * *

><p>Chris glanced at the calendar in the bottom right corner of his screen.<p>

_Thursday, March 5_.

This meant eight days until the dinner, a type of get together he had never really favored and he was now particularly dreading. Maybe he could back out and simply sit at home contemplating how he was going to kill Wesker.

_A great friend I am_, Chris thought bitterly as he began organizing his files in preparation for his leaving. His plan was to clean up and drive to his old favorite bar where he could talk to the pretty waitress he used to eye during his STARS days and maybe act like he didn't know about their death in two years.

"See you tomorrow, Chris," Barry said with a wave as he passed Chris' desk.

"Bye, Barry. Tell Kathy I said hello," Chris said with a sad smile.

"Will do!" Barry left the office leaving Chris alone.

Chris sighed and dropped the files he was holding. Wesker had his own office connected to the group's office and the door was currently closed. Through the window, Chris could see Wesker on the phone though he didn't look particularly angry or bothered. It was just business but to Wesker that could mean he was ordering for Umbrella to set an orphanage on fire for _scientific purposes_.

That was, assuming, Wesker could make orders like that. Chris never really knew what Wesker did in Umbrella despite knowing the majority of his background with the company. Chris had read over the Project W files countless times and could practically recite them word for word if his life depended on it. For a while, it made him pity the blond- this was, of course, before he kidnapped Jill.

Chris lost all pity in that moment.

"Are you alright?"

Chris jumped slightly and sighed when Wesker chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What will your night consist of?" Wesker asked with mild interest as he stepped out of the doorway of his office to lean against the wall that lined the outside of his office.

"Heavy drinking of alcohol, not sure what yet, and mass amounts of hoping that I actually make it to my bed instead of falling asleep on the couch again," Chris' response was snide but it was truthful. He hadn't taken his lunch break due to the work load he was given and he was beginning to lose his respectful attitude as the hunger caught up with him. "You?"

"I was considering returning home and simply continuing my work there. However, would you mind some company?"

_Yes_.

"No, of course not. Do you just want to meet there or-?"

"I'm finished here and I wouldn't mind driving," Wesker shrugged and Chris nodded.

Chris stood and he caught himself on the desk in front of him. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning and by the time his mind was able to concentrate on what was happening, he found Wesker far too close to him. Wesker's hand was pushed against the side of Chris' neck, a far too sensitive part of his body. Chris shook his head once and brushed Wesker's hand away before physically pulling from the touch when Wesker's hand wasn't moved.

"When was the last time you ate?" Wesker asked after finally pulling away his hand only to grasp at Chris' chin and physically turn his face towards the blond.

"I don't remember," Chris responded gruffly, attempting to also pull out of that grip.

"Stop your struggling, Christopher."

"I'm fine!" Chris growled and yanked his face from the grip.

Wesker stared at him for a moment, his face unreadable in ways that bothered Chris beyond comprehension. Chris was holding his chin, his thumb caressing the right side of his jaw line as he glanced at Wesker and dropped his eyes. Wesker stood there a moment, his grey eyes assessing Chris before smirking coldly.

"Very well," he muttered and turned on his heel.

Chris watched Wesker gather his coat from within his office, calmly turn out the light, and begin to the exit. Something in Chris wanted to call out, wanted to make everything okay, but Chris didn't allow it to venture past a simple thought. Chris was Chris and Wesker was Wesker. They were doomed to play these roles as enemies and this was something that was set into motion long before the Mansion Incident. Befriending Wesker would not suddenly change his mind about betraying the group, it didn't before and wouldn't this time.

However, Chris _did_ need to keep his job and snapping at his boss left and right probably wasn't going to end well for him or his team.

This was the only reason he actually sighed and walked quickly after the blond.

"Wes-"

Right, respect should probably be in the apology no matter how fake it was.

"Captain, wait!" Chris sighed and quickly followed the blond.

Wesker didn't stop when the sound of Chris' footsteps began to echo through the quiet hallway. Wesker, if anything, strode faster and Chris had to pick up his speed to a jog to grab the blond by his arm. This was, apparently, the incorrect thing to do as Wesker turned on his heel to quickly come face to face with Chris.

Chris didn't back down or flinch. If anything his eyes hardened as did his grip as he stared into the grey eyes of his enemy.

"What?" he hissed through a clenched jaw.

"I-I wanted to apologize," Chris stated slowly though in the same commanding voice Wesker used whenever he attempted to emphasize anything. "You were… attempting to help and I pushed you away," Chris' voice grew softer but the commanding voice was still there, he was sure. "I'm sorry."

Chris half expected a snide response but Wesker's jaw unclenched and he sighed, breaking their eye contact.

It was in this moment that Chris realized something. Chris stared into those soft, apologetic grey eyes and saw the human part of Wesker that Chris didn't even realize existed until this moment. He always assumed Wesker was this horrible _thing_ that was raised as just another one of Umbrella's monsters. But Wesker wasn't that in this moment. Wesker looked- seemed- human.

And yet it was a lie.

It was the same lie he told every day for two years and it would forever remain that lie.

And that's why Chris released Wesker's arm and stepped back.

"But like I said, I'm fine. Just… sorry for snapping. Have a good night."

Chris quickly stepped away, retreating back into the STARS office to retrieve his belongings and get home as soon as possible because he had things to do that didn't involve sitting around to pity the man who ruined his life.

He quickly made his way through the door of the office, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and tossing it over his arm before grabbing his wallet from the desk top. He turned on his heel and was surprised to see Wesker standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

"Sir?" Chris asked carefully.

"When was the last time you ate, Christopher?"

Chris frowned. He really didn't need this. He had things that need to be done, things that involved killing the man across from him.

"I don't know?" Chris said with a head shake. "I'm fine, really Captain. I'm just busy-"

"Let me buy you dinner, Redfield."

Chris was in the process of sticking his wallet into his back pocket when the man offered. The brunet looked up and saw the blond smirking that damn smirk. The same damn smirk that haunted him all through Rockfort Island and Kijuju until he forced himself to forget. This was the man that gave him the disorder that had him lost for so long.

And yet he still managed a small smile.

"Thanks, Captain, but it's been a long day."

"You were willing just a few minutes ago," Wesker countered carefully.

"I have a bit to think about," Chris muttered truthfully exchanging a glance with the captain.

"Very well, if you insist. You must eat something, Christopher. You need the energy and I cannot have you falling ill at such an important time."

"Important time?" Chris asked carefully, eyeing the man suspiciously.

Wesker chuckled dryly and Chris internally tensed. His gun wasn't nearby, after all, and he just didn't feel safe being near the blond without a very nice weapon or at least several other people around. Yet here he stood feet away from the blond.

"Dinner parties and-" Wesker stopped and sighed. "I'd rather not see you in the hospital, that is all."

"You won't, I'll be fine. See you tomorrow, Sir."

Chris began towards the doorway but before he reached it, Wesker spoke again.

"Are you ever going to get over your fear of me, Redfield?"

Chris stopped now much closer to the blond than he would have ever liked. Perhaps Wesker had a point, Chris was afraid of him but not in the same way he thought. Chris feared what was to come and what Wesker was going to end up doing and how it was going to effect everyone that he knew and loved. Wesker, as a person, did not scare Chris in the slightest.

"I'm not afraid of you, Captain," Chris said, his voice coming out a little too dark for his liking.

"If you insist."

Chris simply gave a nod and continued walking. He passed by Wesker, brushing his arm slightly, and turned down the hall. He walked as quickly as his legs allowed and the sound of his echoing footsteps filled the hallway but he continued. He kept going and going but when he found himself back in front of the STARS office, he sighed. Wesker was standing inside, jacket hung over one of the empty desk chairs and the phone receiver of said desk pressed to his ear. Chris couldn't hear what Wesker said through the closed door but he seemed upset and shouting. Chris watched him laugh harshly, a sound he _could_ hear through the door, before Wesker's eyes landed on Chris through the window of the door. A smirk crossed his lips and his mouth moved in a way Chris couldn't read.

Another few minutes of Chris watching and Wesker hung up, motioning with a single hand for Chris to enter. Chris obeyed and stepped inside, arms crossing as eyes raked the empty room.

"I see you have returned."

"Yeah, I want to take you up on the offer."

"Why is that?" Wesker asked, eyebrows raised and smirk fading.

"I guess I could tell you over dinner," Chris offered with a shrug.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I'm not late this time! Woo! Also please inform me of any errors you happen to see within the chapter. I apologize for the lack of Valentine's Day oneshot of some kind but I've been insane busy. I haven't given up on Diamonds For Tears or Fall of Umbrella, guys! I promise. They're just slowly getting finished while I also fight to finish this bad boy. **

**For personal updates, follow my tumblr WhiskerFanfiction.**

**I am also taking prompts and commissions though if I take any more, they will come after one chapter of either Diamonds for Tears or Fall of Umbrella. **

**Lastly, this chapter was a bitch and I truly hope you guys enjoy it. (I also hope the flamers and trolls will stop attacking this story but you can only hope, right?)**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

**Food For The Body Is Not Enough, There Must Be Food For The Soul**

_-Dorothy Day_

The two drove separately but met at an Italian restaurant. It was small, family owned, and hopefully not Umbrella run though Chris couldn't be sure anymore. Umbrella seemed to have a hand in every business in town and Chris couldn't comprehend how blind the citizens of Raccoon City were. Nonetheless, Chris arrived and stood in the dark, staring at the restaurant. He could see Wesker inside through a window and Chris wondered what he was doing here.

Before he could really answer himself, Wesker looked up and gave one of his fake smiles to Chris before removing his glasses. Chris sighed and entered, avoiding the hostess and heading straight to the table Wesker sat at. Wesker's legs were crossed under the table and two menus lay on the table, one of which Wesker's hand sat atop. Chris quietly wondered how long Wesker waited while he sat. His eyes wandered as Wesker spoke and he found that all light came from red sconces on the wall and hanging lamps above each table. He realized the overall lighting and classic Italian atmosphere set a very romantic mood.

Chris was in no way interested in setting any mood with Wesker, especially a _romantic_ one.

"I assume you found the restaurant with ease?"

"Yeah, wasn't too difficult."

Chris picked up the menu and his eyes began glancing over the two page book. He sat just across from Wesker in the wooden chair provided.

"Good," the blond responded. Chris glanced up to see Wesker flashing another smile, similar to the one given when they met eyes through the window. Chris knew this all too well as Wesker's "show" smile, put on during business functions and when he was playing his role as Captain Albert Wesker.

It sickened Chris moreso than any of Wesker's actions.

"You don't have to do that," Chris stated, eyes returning to the drink category of the menu.

"What, may I ask, am I doing that I don't have to?" Wesker asked, mild interest under his pretentious tone.

Chris gave a dry laugh and arched an eyebrow—something the old Chris would never do in the presence of the great Captain Albert Wesker, "I know the difference between your sincere smile, your fake smile, and your smirk. Don't smile if you don't mean it"

Chris was beginning to realize the façade he'd had for the past two days was wearing thin as his true self was beginning to show. His assertion with Claire was another one of these moments. He was a strong, persistent leader and it was coming out, slowly seeping into his actions without Chris realizing it as he was far more concerned with the fact that he had suddenly awoken in a different time period.

"I see. I apologize if I insulted you," the blond stated.

Chris exhaled heavily, "you didn't insult me."

They sat in silence. Chris read the menu while Wesker did whatever Wesker was doing. Chris eventually looked up after reading the same line over and over again and found Wesker with his chin resting on his fist and his blue-grey eyes on a man sitting across the restaurant. Chris twisted his neck to glance at him—young, probably late twenties, black hair, a suit.

"Do you know him?" Chris asked.

"No. He simply reminds me of someone, I suppose."

"Who?"

Chris wracked his tired brain and didn't find anyone he could remember that would possibly relate to the young man. Just as he began to run the various possibilities in his head, Wesker responded.

"Nobody of importance."

Chris considered pushing the subject but the arrival of the waiter slightly startled him. He ordered a drink and Wesker ordered coffee and some sort of pasta.

"And for you?" the tall male turned to Chris.

"Just the soda," Chris stated, closing the menu.

"Christopher, we are here for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Chris shot back.

"I don't believe that."

"Just the soda," Chris repeated to the waiter, ignoring Wesker.

They handed the waiter the menus and waited until he left before returning to the conversation—though Wesker opened his mouth before Chris.

"I must ask," the blond began, "what has been on your mind as of late? You seem distant and restless and it worries."

"It worries who exactly?" Chris asked. His tone was thick with accusation but Wesker ignored it.

"Myself. I worry for you, Christopher." Chris scoffed and turned his head toward the window. It was dark and all he could really see was his own reflection of which he stared at while Wesker continued. "You don't believe me?" Wesker paused at Chris' shaking head.

It took everything Chris had for him to not _explode_ on Wesker. Chris wanted to stand up and scream at Wesker. He wanted to punch him and tell him about how his plans will fail. Chris had to practically stop himself from snapping at him about how his own life work would kill his best friend and how he was nothing but an experiment gone slightly right. Instead, Chris exhaled through his nose and glanced back at Wesker.

"Whether you believe me or not isn't my concern. My concern lies with what has been bothering you both as your captain and friend."

"Friend?" Chris asked with a dry laugh. "That's a stretch, don't you think?"

Chris realized being in an environment where Wesker wasn't his captain was causing his attitude, his _real_ attitude, to surface and he found himself challenging Wesker. Unfortunately, in his current situation, he couldn't challenge the blond as he was rather confined by the role Wesker was playing as Captain. Chris would have to find another way around it that wasn't doing this though he wasn't quite sure if he could keep himself from being too disrespectful.

"Possibly. However, friend or not, I continue to worry. Do you not see that you are not alone as you seem to act? You have people—friends, colleagues, myself—all who are here to help if you simply speak to us," Wesker's 'Captain' voice was back.

"My issues are my business, Captain," Chris answered. His tone was softer than his previous words but he was still serious and Chris was sure Wesker knew it.

"You are part of a team, Redfield. You cannot be selfish and expect only you to suffer in the end," Wesker's words had Chris' attitude back as quickly as it had left. "You also cannot expect those who care for you to sit idle while you—"

"_Those who care for me_?" Chris snapped. "Say what you really mean, _Captain_," Chris narrowed his eyes and his cold words hung in the air for a moment before he continued, "You really mean those who depend on me. I get it, alright?"

Chris couldn't imagine how the two looked to anyone who knew a thing about body language. Chris was stiff but sitting tall as if to pull the dominance with his posture. Wesker looked calm but the way his eyebrow twitched at certain sentences and the way his fingers seemed to be searching for anything to do besides sit in his lap was a thinking technique Chris had learned Wesker to have.

The return of the waiter with drinks caused Wesker to stop his response. The two thanked the waiter and, again, waited for him to leave.

"You don't seem to understand my words as you claim. I remind you of those who care for you and you disregard my words. Then, I attempt to remind you of who rely on your skills to stay alive and you not only disregard my words but you also twist them to make it seem as if it's bad to have people relying on you."

"I'm dealing with some stuff, alright? I don't need to be reminded of a bunch of people who don't care about me. If this was the real reason you wanted to have dinner, you should have told me. We could have done this in the office," Chris snapped. His gaze returned to his reflection and the sight that looked back at him was Piers.

Chris jumped and with a blink, the image was gone. He sat straight up again in shock, eyes wide with fear and mind turning over and over at the image. This was what led him to his drinking and the depression _before_ he awoke here, seeing Piers' haunting face everywhere. His guilt wouldn't leave and even now he was dealing with it.

"You certainly aren't alright."

Chris' neck snapped to look at Wesker who was staring at him. The blond looked slightly worried though the majority of the emotion in his eyes was amusement—Chris knew all too well how to read those cold eyes.

"I'm fine," Chris said with less force than intended.

"Very well." Wesker paused and took a drink from the cup he had ignored up until now, "As long as I continue to receive respect and your little… tantrums don't interfere with your job, continue with your self harming behavior."

"First of all," Chris began, fingers drumming on the table, "I haven't lost respect for you. Nothing has changed. I'm the same person I was a few days ago and I don't know what you're thinking especially since I haven't even questioned your ability to lead as a captain. Second, I'm not doing anything that is harming myself."

"I haven't seen you eat in two days, Christopher."

Chris' eyes lingered on Wesker's. The two just sat for a long moment, exchanging glances before Chris sat back, dominance fight fading. Chris hadn't eaten since he woke up where he was. It was a dream—that was what Chris was attempting to tell himself. It wasn't real, he didn't need to eat. But he couldn't deny the hunger that was grumbling within him.

"I haven't had time."

"Make time. Be late to work. I don't mind waiting an additional ten minutes while you toast bread. I also suggest not lying to me."

"Lying?"

"Yes. We have time right now. You could have ordered _something_ considering we are here for _dinner_."

"I don't want to spend money on food."

Chris knew it was a bad lie—oh how he knew. But that didn't stop the statement from slipping from his lips with far too much ease or the rather amused look on Wesker's face to sit and taunt him for a moment. Chris' eyes refocused on the napkin dispenser that also held various packets of sugar supplements.

"I could have easily paid for your meal. In fact, I am making that offer. I will gladly pay for—"

"No, you aren't going to pay for me. I'll eat when I get home, it isn't that big of a deal."

"Except, you _won't_ actually eat. You will make up some excuse instead such as perhaps you're too angry at me to eat—"

"I'm not even angry at you," Chris chimed in annoyance.

Wesker ignored him.

"—or perhaps work was too strenuous and you should rest—"

"Being tired is a valid reason—"

"—Or you'll create a situation if one isn't provided for you. Perhaps you'll call your sister back, cause a fight, and return to work upset tomorrow morning."

"Don't bring my sister into this, Wesker," Chris snapped.

The way Wesker treated his sister on Rockfort Isle made Chris extra weary about Wesker even talking about Claire. They didn't know each other—Hell, the first time they met was on that island and to this day Chris wasn't very sure how Wesker knew who Claire was. Chris had said her name, sure, but never did he show the blond any pictures.

"I'm attempting to help."

"You're not doing well," Chris muttered.

"I suppose there isn't much I can do. Simply seeing an issue doesn't necessarily mean I can fix it," Wesker mused quietly.

"There isn't an issue," Chris repeated.

"Very well. Why did you retreat from the date with Miss Valentine?"

"I never thought you'd care for something so trivial like an office romance gone wrong," Chris mocked.

"Normally, I wouldn't. However, this interests me."

"Why?!" Chris exclaimed, a bit too loudly. "Why are you _so_ interested in everything I do? I'm not your worry. I'm an adult and have taken care of myself way longer than you can even think so why the hell do you insist on constantly being in everything I do? You're a captain. That's it."

"Odd. Just days ago, you referred to me as your friend- A trusted friend who you were grateful to have watching over you."

Chris couldn't remember saying this but it was possible. Anything was possible because of Chris' missing memory. He could either go along with it and have it all be an elaborate plan to call Chris out, or he could deny the conversation ever happened when, in actuality, it did and he just didn't remember it.

Or this entire thing was a dream and his own mind was playing tricks on him. This was the option he was really hoping for.

"Things change."

"Apparently," Wesker muttered. "Nonetheless, why would you risk your friendship with Miss Valentine—"

"I'm not talking about this anymore."

Wesker didn't respond and Chris almost snapped at him again until their waiter stepped up to the table. A bowl of pasta was set in front of Wesker along with another refill for Chris and some eating utensils rolled up in a napkin. The man turned to Chris and, with a worried glance, began to speak.

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"No appetizer or—"

"No, really, I'm fine," Chris was attempting to remain polite but the stare Wesker was giving him was making him angry.

"Very well," the man said. He looked to Wesker and said with a smile, "enjoy your meal," before leaving the two alone once again.

The two sat alone for a long while. It was quiet. Wesker ate in silence and Chris stared at his lap where he picked at his fingernails and thought of his sister. He missed her and wanted her close to him but he supposed it wasn't safe. Raccoon City wasn't doomed for a good long while, of course, but it was still unsafe. If any of this was real, being in this part of his timeline was dangerous. This dinner never happened. This conversation never happened. The call between him and his sister was vastly different. Step by step he was managing to change things and it worried him how unsteady his own history was, especially in his memory.

He just couldn't remember a lot of it. It's not as if he had a photographic memory, of course. He remembered mostly major events. The dinner at Barry's, standing up Jill, and of course the fall of Raccoon City. It was difficult to recall many of the things that were giving him déjà vu and actually went so far as to causing him great worry. He didn't like feeling lost in his own life. He didn't like remembering things but having blanks and memories missing. It made him feel empty and alone.

He _was_ empty and alone.

"Why did you agree to this?"

"Huh?" Chris asked, glancing up. He hadn't heard the question with his own mind wandering.

"Why did you agree to the dinner?"

"Oh, I did say I would tell you that," Chris sighed. "I've felt… alone lately." He chose his words carefully and spoke slowly to avoid making a mistake. "I wanted to get my mind off of some things and I wanted to prove to you that I'm still loyal to you. I can tell that you don't trust me."

"I trust you as much as I ever have, Christopher."

Chris saw that glint in Wesker's eyes. The evil glint that he watched appear more and more often as the years went on and their fighting continued. Had Chris not known anything about his future (or was it his past? He gave up questioning it) he would ignore the glance altogether. However, as Wesker dipped his head down as he took another bite of his food, Chris rolled his eyes. The bastard had meaning far beyond what he said, Chris knew. Wesker never trusted him—at least, not completely. Chris, to an extent, understood why. Besides the betrayal looming on the horizon, Chris' background made Wesker weary, especially near the beginning of S.T.A.R.S.

Over time, Wesker would begin to see Chris' potential but for now, Wesker expected Chris to turn on him just as much as Chris expected the same from Wesker.

Chris laughed outwardly at the thought.

"Something humorous?" Wesker asked, eyebrow rising as he spoke.

"Not in the slightest."

Chris didn't elaborate and Wesker didn't press him. The blond simply returned to his food and Chris eventually grew tired of watching the man eat as his own hunger returned accompanied by a painful nauseous feeling that was too persistent to ignore.

"I think I'm going to go. I'm starting to get hungry and it's been a long day."

"If you wish."

Chris nodded and stood. He dug his hand into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a five dollar bill before setting it on the table.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"If you ever need anyone to talk to—"

"No offense, Captain, but I don't think I'd come to you. It's just too personal. S.T.A.R.S is business, nothing else," Chris stated firmly.

"I can't help but disagree. Miss Valentine was somewhat correct. We are a family of sorts."

"No we aren't." Chris didn't wait for a response and Wesker didn't give one. He simply shook his head and muttered, "Good night, Captain."

* * *

><p>Chris sat in his car for several long minutes. He watched Wesker finish his meal shortly after Chris' departure before making his way to the table where the young male sat. They spoke and Chris saw the blond show off his teeth with his fake smile. Chris didn't wait around much longer after Wesker's eyes drifted to the window sometime during his talk with the unknown male and his eyes locked with Chris'. It was then Chris left despite hoping the young male wouldn't be a possible test subject or something of the sort.<p>

Chris eventually made his way home and upon entering, his stomach made itself known once again. He was almost afraid to eat- he didn't want any of this to be real. Yes, he felt pain. Yes, he used the bathroom and showered daily. Yes, he had feelings- none of these things had made him fear his new life like food did.

It was exhausting, pathetic, and frightening being in this situation.

He tossed his coat onto the couch and flipped on the light. His apartment was empty as per usual. A quiet sigh and he made his way into the kitchen where he began about making a sandwich. He grabbed a bag of chips and the plate the sandwich was set on and made his way back into the living room where he took a seat on his couch. Setting the plate to his side, he grabbed the remote for the television and clicked it on.

He clicked through the channels idly though his mind was gone.

Chris Redfield wasn't a sit at home in front of the television and eat a sandwich type of guy, at least not anymore- though the drunken mess he had turned into wasn't who he was either. Perhaps Chris didn't even know who he was anymore.

He settled on the news, hoping to catch up on the recent times, and picked up his sandwich. He frowned at it for a moment before taking a bite and carefully chewing it. He swallowed and blinked as if expecting to suddenly implode or wake up from the nightmare he was living.

But he was still sitting on his leather couch with his eyes on the top piece of bread and with the news playing idly in the background.

_Maybe I'm doomed to this_ he thought, quietly musing that he deserved this for Piers' death—if Piers ever existed, of course.

A thought played in his mind that he would somehow find Piers and maybe warn him about joining the B.S.A.A in the future or maybe befriend him. He allowed himself to muse about it quietly, eyes glazed over as he imagined how it would be trying to befriend such a stubborn young man or how Chris would even find the sharpshooter in the first place.

It made him smile but the smile soon faded with the fantasy.

He couldn't go looking for Piers as if chasing a ghost. Perhaps after S.T.A.R.S disperses he could take some time and seek him out. That thought comforted him and he ate in thoughtless silence with his eyes on the television.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I know this is a few hours late and I'm a horrible person but hopefully this nice long chapter will make up for it! I've been horribly busy and even now I'm trying to balance homework and cleaning out my closet! Enjoy and I would love some R&R. I'm not getting much which is sort of making me self conscious about this story! See you next week!**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 5:<strong>

**If You Wish To Forget Anything On The Spot, Make A Note That This Thing Is To Be Remembered**

_~Edgar Allan Poe_

Chris would be lying if he said he didn't miss Jill. She had been the only one to look out for him after Piers' death. She had even taken him in for a while but Chris left as soon as he could get back to work—and he did for a while. He got himself a crappy little flat and stayed busy. He shut down sometimes, had flashbacks, and suffered from blackouts when he didn't keep his mind off of things but every single time he called or texted, Jill came.

And Chris would do the same for her in a heartbeat.

He missed that friendship. He had already been through the effort of building such a complex relationship and he would have given anything to have things return to how they used to be—or they would be in the future. Time travel was truly beginning to mess with his comprehension on time.

Chris had decided early that morning that this was real. Standing in front of a mirror with a stream of blood down his jaw and dripping onto his neck was the moment. It was blood and pain and… it was real.

Chris almost cried.

Tears stung behind his eyes at the loneliness and confusion. He was angry as well though, and too concentrated on not fucking up his life to let himself cry. Chris Redfield was a determined son of a bitch and he would not let something like his own past stop him from succeeding, no matter how ridiculous or insane it was. He needed to remember and fix upcoming events as they came along which meant he needed a level head.

His reflection gave a dead stare and he hoped he could hide it.

Chris realized he was depressed after a long moment of exchanging glances with himself. His eyes shifted downward and he wiped a washcloth across the blood on his chin. He was exhausted.

He dressed and ate; quicker than the previous night but all the same with extreme caution as it was just another reminder of his predicament. He drove to the station in full uniform, as he usually did, and walked into the S.T.A.R.S office early. Wesker was there but remained in his office even after raising his gaze to glance at Chris through the window before returning to his work.

Chris was the only one in the office. He ignored Wesker's presence as their offices were mostly separated anyway. He shook off his jacket as he usually did, hung it over his chair, and took a seat. There had to be something in his desk that told more about the previous few weeks or days at least.

So, he began searching.

A calendar was the first thing he pulled from the middle drawer under his desk. It was large, the type that would sit on a desk top for easy access which quickly told him that he wasn't the type to write down his appointments and things that had to be done. A look over the mostly blank calendar proved he was right as it still had January tagged as the front page- of last year.

_Wonderful,_ he mused.

He moved his eyes to the drawer again and sighed at the mostly empty box. Highlighters, pens, pencils, paperclips- all sorts of things that you would naturally see in a drawer. A pad of white sticky notes sat on its front, first three pages folded in on themselves. Chris thought it looked as if it was thrown in- with haste or anger was the real question. He flipped it over in the drawer and pulled the top page from its place at the top.

_Tuesday_

_9 PM_

_Bar Black Jack_

_Interested?_

He repeated the words over and over in his mind- this was the night he was supposed to go out with Jill but that wasn't where he would take her on a date. That wasn't a _date_ place though considering he didn't show up- the facts lined up fine. Chris flipped through the stack quickly with his thumb and found nothing else. He pressed the note to the calendar and set the blank stack of notes on his desk top.

_I suppose I'll have to return that to Jill later_, he mused.

A door closed and Chris found Wesker exiting his office. The blond eyed Chris from behind dark shades and gave one of his fake smiles. Chris returned a fake smile and Wesker left the S.T.A.R.S office. Chris returned to what he was doing and closed the drawer. He sat back in his chair and looked at his desktop. The computer was off, clunky, a standard '98 computer.

_My reports should be on here_, he realized moving to turn it on before the realization hit.

He waited, a sense of nostalgia washing over him as he watched and listened to the fan roar to life in the tower under the desk. No password was required but Chris used to be naive- he wouldn't expect Umbrella to snoop let alone Wesker. It's very possible he had files filled with things he couldn't remember. He immediately pulled up the file interface and began clicking through the reports.

He remembered most of them- the drug busts were always memorable, after all.

Sometimes they could be huge crime rings from Florida just passing through, other times it could be the grandmother of an orphaned child just trying to get by. Chris even remembered the names of most of them though he also remembered up to three hundred of the names of the victims released in the newspapers from Raccoon City after the incident. Chris remembered tragedies far too well.

But they weren't all drug busts. Some, he found, were gambling crime rings, weapon smuggling, and there was even a case of thieving circus people who attempted one of the largest hold ups the town had ever seen.

Chris wondered how many of these had to do with Umbrella and why they would even bother sending S.T.A.R.S for the cases that a few police officers could just as easily taken care of. Sometimes the group was even sent out on simple dispute charges though Wesker was rarely happy about it. Chris assumed it had something to do with the constant fight between Wesker and Irons but Chris could really care less as both were Umbrella scum and would eventually get what was coming to them.

More searching led him to remember quite a bit about some of the things he had completely forgotten about- like the time he got shot and he was out of work for a week. Jill was so worried but Wesker was the one who showed up at his door every morning to make sure he was _taking the correct precautions to allow a full recovery and a speedy return to work where he was needed_.

He was so engrossed in one of the reports that by the end, he was surrounded by a majority of his team. Barry was late but that usually happened on Fridays Chris remembered. Everyone had gotten to work but as Chris just sat there, he wondered what they were all actually working on. He had finished his paperwork for yesterday the previous night so what exactly were they doing?

He frowned and turned back to his desktop. Wesker was still gone, probably fighting with Irons but he could be off doing anything. Maybe he's plotting with Birkin or making a serum or he could be killing someone. Chris hated not knowing.

He stood and walked towards Jill, grabbing the stack of sticky notes as he stood. He needed a reason to speak to Jill and this was as good as any, he assumed.

"Hey, Jill."

"Redfield."

It was so cold. Her eyes didn't move from her computer screen and her fingers tapped over the keys of the keyboard. Chris followed her gaze to also look at the computer screen. She was typing up a report on the weekly lessons Wesker had been giving out- Chris assumed Irons demanded them to make sure the money being put into the lessons wasn't being wasted.

"Hey, I just thought I would return this," Chris muttered, holding out the pad.

Jill stopped abruptly and twisted her neck slightly, eyes landing on the white paper. She glanced up at Chris.

"It's not mine."

Immediately she returned to work, gaze back on the screen with her fingers tapping away. Chris wasn't even sure if she was typing real words at this point.

"No but, it is. It had a note on the top that-"

Jill's glare had Chris stumbling over his words before finally he sighed.

"Let me show you."

"I'm busy, Redfield," she muttered.

Chris had already sprinted back to his desk to grab the piece of paper he had stuck to his calendar. He returned and stuck the note on her desk to grab her attention.

"You wrote this."

"I didn't write that. That's not even my handwriting _and_ we were supposed to meet at eight, not nine."

"I don't believe that, I would know your handwriting-"

Jill huffed and grabbed the pad of paper from Chris' hand. She picked up a pen and scribbled the same words down.

_Tuesday_

_9 PM_

_Bar Black Jack_

_Interested?_

They were different. Chris didn't need training to see that her T was more slanted than the note's, a very feminine way to write it, and her J had more of a hook on it. They were subtle enough differences that told Chris they weren't the same and Jill was telling the truth.

"Now will you leave me alone? I have work to do," she repeated, throwing the pen onto her desk with a clatter and returning to her work.

"Yeah- sorry," Chris sighed, grabbing the note and notepad.

Chris returned to his desk and took a seat. He stared at the two for a long time comparing them and wondering if Jill's anger could have effected the way she wrote but the original note wasn't cute. It wasn't flirty. It had no weird feminine squiggles on it or curls that would count as suggestive- it was just a note. He tore Jill's note from the top of the notepad and tossed it into his trash bin.

"We have a case. Quickly everyone."

Chris turned and found Wesker storming into the office, briskly walking past everyone before halting almost completely at Chris' desk. Chris looked up at him expecting some sort of command but, instead, the blond was smirking.

"I see you kept my note," Wesker stated, "and my notepad. I wondered where that had gone."

"Wait, your note? What?"

"We have somewhere to be, Redfield," Wesker said dismissively, grabbing the notepad from Chris' desk top and continuing through the room.

Chris blinked in confusion for a long moment before quickly following the group into the locker rooms to change.

* * *

><p>Chris rushed to his locker and took a seat on the bench as he opened it and began pulling out his weapons. The only sound came from Wesker's explanation of the mission though his words were far from Chris' mind. Instead, Chris was much more focused on the sudden heavy feeling in his empty stomach joined with his onset headache and the now nauseous feeling burning his throat. Not knowing whether he had seen Wesker Tuesday instead of Jill was distracting him.<p>

It was becoming increasingly difficult to wrap his mind around a memory that he knew existed but was unable to recall. He felt lost and confused once again and his mind began attempting to comprehend his current position. He was somewhere in his past with an entire future already figured out for him? How was this even possible? How did any of this make any sense? Umbrella had to have had something to do with it-

No that wouldn't make sense. Umbrella is dead from where Chris comes from, he's sure of it. Umbrella is dead, Tricell is gone, and even Neo-Umbrella didn't make it that far. So was this another B.O.W trick? Was this another virus?

Chris' green vest had been limp in his hand until a sharp pain to the temple had him drop the article to rub at his forehead. His right palm rubbed aggressively against the spot and his head tilted down as the pain became blinding. His eyes closed and he held back a groan at the unexpected pain.

"Redfield."

Chris didn't hear Wesker's words. The pained expression soon didn't go ignored by the blond and Wesker was circling around the bench without knowledge to Chris. Chris was rubbing at his eyes with the pads of his palms while his heartbeat pounded in his ears thus deafening him farther.

Chris wanted so desperately to wrap his mind around this. He was living it, after all. He was living all of this. His present was his past and his future was up in the air. Everything he did had an effect. Everything. He could somehow end up killing himself just from ordering the wrong thing at dinner from a restaurant. This wasn't okay.

"Chris," Wesker's hand on Chris' shoulder caused the brunet to jolt slightly. He could feel not only Wesker's eyes on him but also Barry's who was close by. Chris exchanged a quiet glance with Wesker for a moment but the blond didn't speak until Chris looked away. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, yeah," Chris muttered before leaning down to grab his forgotten vest at his feet.

"You heard the mission I presume?"

"Yeah," Chris responded as he slipped on the vest. He rolled his eyes when Wesker looked at him expectantly and he sighed in annoyance. "A woman, Georgia Williams, reported seeing a suspicious person, James Durrow, lingering around her neighbor's house and she claims she hasn't seen her neighbor in some time. We were called in due to the unknown danger of the mission." Chris grabbed his holster and ammo pouches from his locker before closing it.

"Interesting."

"What?" Chris snapped as he situated the straps around his upper thigh.

"I didn't supply the name of the alleged suspicious neighbor," Wesker stated quietly as the side of his lip twisted into a smirk.

Chris glanced up at the blond and gave a cold smile in response, "Lucky guess."

* * *

><p>"You don't look so good," Jill stated nervously.<p>

Chris was pale, Wesker noticed and Chris was sure so did the remainder of Alpha. The group was shoved into a black van with Brad at the wheel. There was no need for a helicopter this time around though Chris didn't quite know how much less conspicuous a large black van was. Wesker was in the passenger seat while the rest were sitting around in the seats provided.

When Chris didn't respond, he could see Wesker twist around in his seat and he was sure the blond's eyes glanced to Jill from behind his sunglasses before he twisted back. Chris sighed in annoyance and lowered his head before his right hand ran over the back of his head.

"Chris," Barry warned worriedly.

"I'm fine," Chris snapped, his head shifting up quickly to eye Barry.

"No you aren't, Chris, and in this profession you can't-"

"You really want to give me advice on how a team should act, Jill? You won't even speak to me unless you are in danger. Next time, why not try talking about it like an adult and not like an upset high school girl."

"Get over yourself, Chris, you think you know anything about me?" Jill snapped back, her hands speaking with her as animatedly as her facial expressions.

"Really, Jill?" Chris leaned forward to where Jill was across from him. "Your favorite food is Stromboli and you like to eat that with a glass of cabernet. A big glass. You don't enjoy television but you like action films. You current favorite would be…" Chris paused and quickly did the math in his head. Though, the pause made him glance around and realize exactly what he had just done.

"How do you know that?" Jill shouted, standing quickly. "What are you, some kind of freak?"

Chris glanced around carefully before his eyes settled back on Jill. His voice was quieter now as he said, "Instead of jumping to conclusions like making me into a stalker, maybe you can take into consideration that I listen and I actually care about my teammates. I could tell you the same information about the rest of the team except maybe Wesker because God knows none of us can possibly know anything about the great and mysterious Albert Wesker."

The quiet around the van told Chris he had possibly gone too far but he didn't care. These people were going to die in less than a year and a half and he was suppose to lay back and watch? That wasn't the type of person he was and being a captain showed him that if anyone was going to change then he needed to be the one to do it. He was going to take control of his life, now.

A glance to Wesker had him swallowing heavily, however, as the blond had removed is sunglasses and his blue-grey eyes were hard and glaring. His eyes did a once over across the van and he sat back with his hands in his lap.

"So you can care about us but we can't care about you?" Jill asked carefully, breaking the silence.

"What?" Chris asked looking to her for answers along with most of the inhabitants of the van.

"I asked you if you were okay and you snapped at me."

"You haven't spoken to me like a human being in days," Chris replied harshly and rather loudly. "I apologized and you refused to even look at me unless I annoyed you."

"So the first attempt I give to repairing the friendship you broke, you decide to go off on me about how unprofessional I am?"

Chris bit his bottom lip and chewed on it carefully. His eyes were downturned and he exhaled sharply.

"I'm not saying you're in the wrong."

"Sounds like it to me," Jill responded quickly.

"I'm saying neither of us are in the right and you can't keep blaming me. We would be better off as friends, Jill, and maybe one day I'll tell you why but for now deal with it or one of these days someone will get hurt just because you couldn't look at me."

"I'm not blaming you, Chris! I'm sorry if I needed several days to get over being completely rejected and humiliated by someone I work closely with but I would have gotten over it eventually."

Chris, knowing Jill, was well aware that was a lie. In fact Chris, having already lived through waiting for Jill to forgive him, knew very well that Jill wouldn't let him forget for years let alone talk to him like he was a human being again. Unfortunately, this conversation never happened as far as he could remember though so he could be drastically changing his future with every word that fell from his lips.

It seemed every choice he made furthered more and more from his current life and it frightened him somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Don't lie, Jill. You're a vengeful person. You would hate me for years."

"At least I would be professional at work," Jill snapped. "Unlike you who decides to point out everything wrong in a person when we should be going over strategies."

"Easy. The assailant, and he is an assailant because he killed Miss Williams' neighbor and stuffed her body in the closet of the basement, will be found in the main bedroom squatting with his cousin who won't be there. They were homeless and picked up a job from Umbrella to transfer some medication somewhere but they sold it instead and were on the run. The neighbor has no family and has been missing since last Wednesday."

There was a long minute of rigid silence as everyone reacted differently. Albert's eyes were wide, Joseph had a hand on Barry's shoulder to stop him from interrupting, Jill got angrier, and Brad remained quiet like always.

"See, like that, Chris! How do you think you're right?"

"Because I am, Jill. You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Maybe Umbrella has too much power and maybe there are people trying to stop them. Maybe someone told me anonymously but I didn't believe them. Or maybe something else happened but what does it matter, Jill? If anyone screws up just once, someone dies. I could know exactly what would happen next but what would it fucking matter? It wouldn't! You can't prevent something when people are so unpredictable."

"You're right, it doesn't matter because you apparently knew information we didn't and you were with-holding that information."

"Redfield informed me of the tip," Wesker stated to Jill. "It sounded unworthy of our time and I made the decision to ignore it. He was following my orders."

Chris looked at Wesker as the blond outright lied for him. He was internally stuck between calling him out completely or simply allowing Wesker to take the fall as he was. Chris kept his mouth closed as Jill's eyebrows furrowed and the group looked to the blond.

"You? You lied to us?"

Chris felt guilty.

He felt sick.

This exact thing would happen but Joseph would be dead, Barry's family will be in danger, and they will be battling hoards of zombies in a year and a half and the man behind it all was currently the one helping him?

Chris couldn't handle this. It was just too stressful for someone who had already been through hell and back multiple times.

Chris' entire life had been nothing but fighting. Fighting monsters, fighting people, fighting governments, fighting corporations- but he had never once been alone. He always had someone near him to support him and guide him through some unthinkable things but now-

Chris Redfield was alone.

Jill Valentine hated him, the group thought he lied to them, the man who he had looked up to his first time around would try to kill him in a few months time, and Claire had a life. Chris had no family, no friends, and no mentor.

Chris Redfield was alone.

"I can't do this," Chris sighed quietly.

"What?" Jill snapped.

"I… can't… do this!" Chris shouted.

"We've been at this for a couple of months, Chris, and already the stress is getting to you?" Jill shouted back with a scoff.

"Months, yeah," Chris muttered.

The two stopped and everyone sat. The van had stopped moving and Chris realized they had probably arrived at the destination though he was well aware the group wasn't prepared to go in. He hoped Wesker would call in Bravo and allow them to take over but he doubted it heavily due to the Umbrella involvement.

"Are you children finished?" Wesker's words broke through the silence.

"If those children don't learn to get along, Captain, we can't go on the mission," Barry sighed.

"Yes we can! I can be professional," Jill snapped assuredly.

Chris didn't hear the words as his focus shifted from the people around him to the pain shooting through his temple and throbbing against a heavy head. His mouth was dry and his lower back had chills at the pain though he tried painfully hard to return his attention to the fight if only to ignore the pain and sudden overwhelming depression.

"Chris isn't well enough to go, look at him!" Jill hissed assumedly in response to something Chris had missed. "You hide one thing and you just keep hiding things, right? Did you know about his health too, Captain?"

"Miss Valentine, I'll have to ask you to stop," the blond stated in his 'I'm still Captain of this team' voice.

The silence that followed his words told enough about the team. Chris remained silent due to his pain but the rest was silent out of fear- not respect. The group feared Wesker more than respected him at the time and trust had yet to set in. Instead, they followed his orders out of fear and due to his position.

"We can speak about this once we return to the office. For now, we have a mission."

"Yes, sir," Jill muttered and the group went into action.

Jill, Joseph, and Barry left the back of the van before Chris. Chris followed closely behind though he was distant. He followed the three members towards the house before being stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Chris turned but the sudden movement sent him reeling and before he could comprehend who pulled his attention, everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I bet you guys are kinda wondering where the Chris/Wesker part comes in. I'm sorry, but this is going to be a very plot heavy. There will DEFINITELY be Chris/Wesker and it will be sex and whatnot but not for another few chapters. Just enjoy their angsty flirting for now and, again, R&R is great!**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

**Half A Truth Is Often A Great Lie**

_-Benjamin Franklin_

Chris doesn't remember opening his eyes. He doesn't remember waking at all, really. It was more of a very sudden awareness. He hadn't even realized that he was currently staring at a picture of a smiling Wesker.

Picture Wesker wore a lab coat, Umbrella Corporation logo stitched on the left breast pocket above his nametag that that read '_A. Wesker'_. His smile seemed real though it was light, airy, in the moment, and all of the things Chris never assumed to see in a smile from Albert Wesker. The blond had his left hand tucked into his lap coat but his right was around the neck of a male who was a similar height to Wesker.

The mysterious man's dirty blond hair was mussed and shaggy, a rather comparative difference to Wesker who was as proper and well put together as ever with his hair and glasses in place. The man also wore a lab coat that held a nametag but rather than wearing dress pants beneath like Wesker, a simple pair of light blue jeans could be seen beneath the coat.

Chris' eyes ran across the man's nametag several times.

_W. Birkin_.

Chris had never seen what Birkin looked like; no file ever held his picture and Chris was out of Raccoon City at the time of his death. This was the man behind G. This was the man responsible for Sherry growing up without either of her parents. This man had an arm hooked around Wesker's neck and a smile on the face.

Chris scowled.

It felt wrong.

"You're awake," Wesker's voice came from somewhere.

Chris didn't respond. He sat up carefully and slowly, looking to where the picture frame sat on Wesker's desk. Chris glanced around with mild interest. He was on the brown leather couch pushed to the side of Wesker's office. The couch was a small love seat and Chris' legs were sticking off the end when he had been lying on it. He looked up and found Wesker leaning against the door frame with his ankles crossed and hands shoved into his pockets.

"What happened?" Chris asked quietly.

"You fainted."

Chris quickly planted his feet firmer to the ground and straightened. His eyes searched for a clock and found the white walls empty. He pushed his palms to his eyes and rubbed vigorously.

He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep shutting down. He needed to focus his energy into something that was productive. He needed to figure things out but his mind was having such an issue wrapping around the entire idea of _going back in time_ that all energy was drained from him by the depression alone let alone the attempts to comprehend it and work through it.

His logical mind could process genetically enhanced human beings that have turned into monsters, sure.

But not this.

Chris sat in Wesker's office with Wesker in the doorway until his mind was able to fabricate an excuse for his outburst earlier that day. Eyes drifted from the floor to the doorway where he exchanged glances with Wesker.

"Do you mind explaining what happened?" Wesker asked calmly.

"I don't know what happened. I was fine and then I wasn.t"

Chris' words were cold, snipped, _confused_ because he WAS confused. He was more confused than he had ever been in his life.

"And how exactly did you come by the information you divulged earlier?" Wesker asked more firmly.

"Does it matter?" Chris asked fingers hooking around the back of his neck. He allowed his right hand to hang there for a moment, applying pressure to the kink that rested there before releasing his grip and allowing it to fall back to his lap.

"I covered for you, Christopher."

"Yeah, why? Why would you do that, exactly? I could be betraying S.T.A.R.S, giving information to the enemy—"

"And who is the enemy, Chris?" Wesker asked before taking a step deeper into the room.

_Umbrella,_ Chris thought almost immediately.

"Criminals. I could be one. You could have just defended the person who is going to take down S.T.A.R.S."

"But I didn't," Wesker stated simple.

"How would you know?" Chris challenged.

"I know you, Christopher, you seem to forget that. You also seem to forget that we are on the same side. As your captain, I have your back. It would be nice for you to return the favor," Wesker rounded the couch and stood in front of Chris, lower back leaning against the side of his desk.

"Anonymous tip."

Chris' words were blunt, without emotion, and dripping with sarcasm. The blond chuckled dryly and shook his head, head down.

"I don't know what I expected," Wesker muttered to the floor.

"Why should I tell you the truth? You didn't tell us you worked for Umbrella," Chris stated.

Wesker had a moment—just a moment. He froze. His shoulders had been rising and falling with his breathing and hunched over prior to Chris' words but Chris watched them—they stopped. The blond's head was down, covering his face, but Chris _saw_ Wesker's body go rigid. He saw it tense. He saw the shoulders tighten and muscles twitch.

Then, Wesker slowly raised his head to look at Chris and the two exchanged glances once again.

"I never worked for Umbrella, Christopher. I could have told you that had you asked."

"Your nametag. Why would you have a nametag had you _not_ worked for Umbrella?"

Wesker stared at him for a moment before slowly twisting his neck around to where the picture frame sat on his desk. Chris sat his jaw tense, saw the way his tongue moved behind closed lips—Even with Wesker wearing glasses, Chris could read the man so well.

Wesker turned back around, this time with a smirk.

"I was a guest—"

"You know Birkin, the man beside you."

"Yes, obviously," Wesker snapped under his breath.

"Birkin looks like a scientist—"

"How can you possible know _that_?" Wesker asked carefully, challengingly.

"His clothing. You're professional at all times, Captain. The pant legs at the bottom of the picture can be seen. He's wearing jeans. Nobody working around people could wear something like that and get away with it. He obviously doesn't work around many people. And why would Umbrella go through the trouble of making you your own labcoat? The namtag is sewn _into_ the clothing."

Wesker's eyes remained on Chris. His fingers were interlocked in his lap, moving subtly in a way that Chris was sure Wesker was stuck between being thoroughly impressed and wanting to kill him. This made Chris smile somewhere inside.

"Care to explain?" Chris asked, Captain voice coming out once again now that they were alone and his elder self was exposed once again.

Wesker remained silent as he reached behind him with his left hand and grasped the picture frame. He pulled it back into his line of vision and removed his glasses with his right hand, holding them against his thigh as he examined the picture.

"William Birkin is a close friend of mine. Your sister may know _of_ him from watching Sherry, however, I highly doubt the two have ever met. He is a scientist for the Umbrella Corporation but I do not work for them, Christopher. I am simply his friend. I often find myself with him during my free time and he rarely leaves his work so I often accompany him. It's against policy to be around their experiments and various work related objects so William had this made."

Wesker continued to stare at the picture while Chris attempted to sort through the lies and truths Wesker had just told. Chris seemed to only pick out one lie—clever bastard keeping as close to the truth as possible.

"You look young in the picture."

"I was. He's worked there for quite some time. I don't take kindly to pictures much anymore but I quite like this one. I rarely have seen him this happy as of late."

"Where did you work before S.T.A.R.S?" Chris asked carefully.

Wesker looked over the picture frame to Chris with raised eyebrows and Chris visibly shrugged.

"You lie to me and expect me to elaborate on my life farther than proving you wrong?" Wesker asked a hint of humor in his voice.

"Fine, what do you want to know?"

"How did you come by the information you expressed earlier? Mission details and the lot."

"Undercover work," Chris said with a slight pause and sigh. "Lots and lots of undercover work. Someone called in last week about some strange smells and I sent a few cop cars to do sweeps—"

"You don't have the authority."

"I have friends," Chris stated with a shrug. "And people who owe me. I wanted to make sure it was okay, that's all. They ended up watching the place undercover for a few days and had even half moved into the house across the street. The assailants were clumsy idiots, really. The police officers got the names of the suspects and the victim almost immediately and they predictedthe victim was in basement because it was the room most avoided by the two. The police officers frequently saw large black SUVs drive through the area with the Umbrella logo on the side of them—it was obvious."

"You have quite the eye, Christopher."

"It's why you hired me, sir," Chris stated quietly.

"Among other reasons."

"Can I go?"

"You don't want to know what my previous occupation was before this?" Wesker asked carefully."

"Not really. You'll just lie again."

Wesker smirked.

"Why the rush?"

"I have some things to figure out," Chris shot back as he stood.

"Such as attempting to recall our meeting?"

Chris visibly shook his head in confusion.

"What?"

"You don't recall meeting at Blackjack or my giving you the note. You seem rather convinced it didn't happen."

"I know it happened, I was there at the meeting—"

"I don't quite believe that."

"And why is that?" Chris asked carefully.

"We never met at the bar. You didn't show up. I assumed it was in favor of seeing Miss Valentine, however, I was quite mistaken."

Chris just stared at Wesker. How could the blond be _so_ infuriating from simply being _right_? Chris was sure it was from knowing too much about the future. He never really found himself this annoyed with his captain until now. Though, Chris realized, he had quite liked when Wesker was right back in the day. When Wesker was right, it usually meant good things for Chris or S.T.A.R.S in general. Chris almost missed the naivety. He missed seeing the man standing in front of him and wanting to smile rather than throw a punch—or worse.

Instead he was faced with this.

A smirk played at Wesker's smug lips and Chris shook his head, eyes narrowed. Chris could see the daring eyes staring back at him, challenging him to say anything to try and fix it. Wesker's arms were crossed over his chest, upper arms tense and shapely straining against the blue sleeve of his S.T.A.R.S shirt. His weapons and pouches were gone, as was Chris' Chris realized, and his ankles were crossed once again.

The bastard was so damn smug.

"Look, thanks for everything—covering for me, bringing me here—but I probably should be resting or something," Chris said with a shrug and a hand motion to the door.

"Your gratitude is unnecessary."

"Then I'll be on my way."

"If you insist."

Chris stood for a moment in the awkward silence. He nodded to Wesker who returned it slowly, more contemplatively. Wesker watched Chris move towards the door.

Chris stopped.

"Hang on—"

Chris turned on his heel and looked back at Wesker.

"Yes?"

Chris blinked at him; his eyes were narrow and his mouth slightly agape but…

"You wanted me to meet you at a bar even though you already knew I was meeting Jill an hour before."

"Yes."

"But… why? That makes no sense. Why would you have wanted me to stand Jill up to see you? What was so important?"

Wesker smirked.

"You already know this Christopher. We had quite a long discussion about it."

"When?"

"Monday. You stayed late to assist me with paperwork. Do you really not recall—"

"Nevermind," Chris said quickly, turning around and leaving the office.

Barry and Frost had been sitting in the office. Both looked up and nodded to him and Chris nodded back with a planted smile before making his way out of the office altogether.

Chris drove towards his apartment, blaring 90s rock music from his radio in an attempt to stop overanalyzing Wesker's words. It was exactly what Wesker wanted. Wesker quite enjoyed making people think, even in S.T.A.R.S and Chris wouldn't fall for it. He just wouldn't. He refused. Chris Redfield was better than this.

But then he thought.

He never remembered the note. He never remembered the late night conversation—hell, the two men had enough of them during the two years that they blended together in his mind. Chris was _always_ staying late to help Wesker, maybe that was why this was the perfect lie.

Or Wesker was testing him. Maybe Wesker planted the note and had Chris go through all of this just to prove Chris was hiding something. Would Wesker really do that?

Would Wesker betray S.T.A.R.S?

Chris assumed if there was a yes to the latter question, a yes could follow any question that viewed Wesker in a negative light. Wesker was conniving, after all. He knew how to get what he needed or wanted and the blond wasn't very good at taking no for an answer.

Wesker had Chris under his grasp even with Chris one hundred steps in front of him. The brunet sighed—he supposed not all was lost even though had he been better at hiding his situation he wouldn't necessarily be dealing with any of this.

Wesker had no idea Chris knew more than he should about the future, not really. Not unless he went through the extra trouble of attempting to track down the police officers who assisted Chris—there was quite a few, Chris doubted Wesker would try.

But Wesker was Wesker.

This _was_ the man who went through the effort of luring S.T.A.R.S into a trap just to see how good Umbrella's BOWs were.

Chris chewed profusely on his lower lip. His eyes were on the orange cast sky and the glow it created over the city. It was difficult for him to consider what attempting to protect the city would do—he could save… Everyone.

He _could_ save so much. Everything.

It all rode on him.

Chris gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and he exhaled a deep breath.

Chris Redfield was a B.S.A.A Captain. He was a leader, a savior, and he would never just give up. Depression would not stop him. Not anymore. Piers died because of him. He would live to make sure Piers never has to make that sacrifice if it kills him trying.

A thought crossed his mind that he honestly doesn't even want to address. He could let Wesker do this. He could let Wesker betray them, kill all of Raccoon City, and allow him to eventually move to Africa where Chris can end him like it should be—It would ensure Chris' safety of getting to Piers.

But it didn't take a genius to see why a thought like that would cross his mind.

Piers' death was new.

Fresh.

Recent.

These people—the tragedy of Raccoon City had been so many years ago. Chris, truthfully, barely thought of it.

But here they were living and breathing and he couldn't let them down. He wouldn't let them down.

Chris Redfield would just have to make a backup plan.

Just in case.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Despite knowing exactly where I'm headed with this story, it's so difficult updating it at the right time, geh! Anywho! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

**Study The Past, If You Would Divine The Future**

_-Confucius_

Dirty brown hair clung to a sweat drenched forehead. Chris' torso was soaked through front and back and he was sure he had a rank smell—but he didn't care. It was the first real workout he had since he woke up in Raccoon City. Unfortunately, he hadn't even gone for the full hour and a half that his older body (and mind) was accustomed to.

His younger body had stronger leg muscles than upper arm like his older self and he quickly became confused when the weight he was used to working out with as a warm up made him sore almost immediately. His legs, however, were far easier to exercise and he spent longer on a treadmill than he ever remembered.

But this was something he needed to not only clear his head but to also work off a lot of the pent up stress plaguing him as well.

He had spent the entire day Saturday documenting any and all suspicious news material that could somehow be traced back to Umbrella if anyone bothered to do the work and fight all the people Umbrella had already paid off. Luckily, with very minimal research, Chris was able to do most of that work himself. At one point, it was so simple he wondered if anyone ever actually questioned why Umbrella had shares in so many different companies that all seemed to be having illegal activity near or within it.

This was his fail safe. He had pages and pages of proof that he laid out perfectly in order for anyone to read—and he made multiple copies.

Despite the copies, he wanted to go through great lengths to keep them hidden—he needed to hide it in plain sight but to do that he needed someone's name to put it under. Someone he could rely on to get the information out and someone who Wesker couldn't get to beforehand.

He spent all of Sunday trying to figure out who he could trust with such a task. His first thought was Jill but in her current condition with their relationship she might go straight to Wesker. True, she was more than trustworthy during her B.S.A.A days but…. Chris had to crudely remind himself that those days are far, far ahead of him.

His second thought was Barry but Chris didn't want to risk Barry's family. It wasn't fair to ask him to do it especially when there was a high chance Chris would have to wait until after Wesker blackmailed Barry to make a move on Umbrella or at least Wesker—though he had high expectations that such a day was quickly coming. Nonetheless, Chris couldn't ask something like that of Barry but, Chris supposed, it _could_ be a backup.

Frost was trustworthy enough but was he skilled and determined enough to handle the information correctly? Chris wasn't sure. Vickers certainly wasn't either of those things let alone dependable so he was quickly thrown off the list.

And Chris didn't necessarily know any of the Bravo team well enough to give them a task like this except for Enrico but he was too close to Wesker and Chris was sure Enrico had a target on his back far larger than anyone else Chris knew.

That's where Claire came in.

It was Sunday night, now, and Chris had showered and eaten with thoughts of the inevitable in the back of his mind. He sat on his couch and looked at the phone that he nearly feared. Chris had never not wanted to talk to his sister but in this moment, with the past week being how it was, he had never dreaded anything so much since Piers' funeral.

_But_, Chris mused bitterly, _I suppose that hasn't happened yet_.

Yet.

Chris was getting sidetracked.

He loved his sister dearly, of course, but he just didn't want her to get wrapped up in all of this. She needed to stay away, far away, where it was safe and not essentially a ticking time bomb like this town was. But he needed her help.

Chris picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear, listening to the tone on the other end for a moment to sooth him.

And then he dialed.

It rang. And it rang. And it ra—

"Hello?"

It was a male voice.

"Uh, hey is Claire there?" Chris asked carefully.

"Yeah, just a sec."

Chris heard muffled shouting and Claire's voice getting closer to the phone. Chris' finger twirled the phone cord

"Claire speaking."

"Is your boyfriend already living with you?" Chris asked partially accusingly with a hint of humor.

"Chris! I thought you were mad at me!"

"I got over it but I'm starting to reconsider."

"No, he isn't living with me. We were just about to go out."

"This won't take long," Chris assured her and he heard her chuckle.

"Don't worry about it, he can wait. You're my brother. Now, what's up?"

"Tomorrow, I'm going to open two different P.O boxes in your name and if anything ever happens to me, I want you to open them both. One will be in your town and the other here in Raccoon City."

"Is everything okay, Chris?" She asked quietly, hushing her voice and pressing her lips to the receiver. She sounded worried and Chris didn't blame her. This must sound terrifying—well, really, it _was_ terrifying but Chris had been through it so many times before…

"For now," Chris responded. "Our missions are getting suspicious. I'll be steadily adding to what I'm putting in both boxes. I'll make sure to keep them both updated but you need to do three different things."

"Of course, anything."

"You can't tell anyone about this."

"Understood."

"If you have to open it make sure to do what you think is right. I suggested two separate organizations in the information provided. You don't have to choose either of them but… they're going to get you places, okay?"

"Understood," Claire's voice wavered. She was confused; Chris was aware and wished he could sit here for hours and explain why he was doing this and what was going to happen and his entire situation but he couldn't. This was the best he could do.

"Lastly, you cannot open either one unless something happens to me. That means if I'm arrested or if Umbrella decides to do anything—"

"Who is Umbrella?"

It was odd hearing that come out of Claire's mouth. She didn't know who they were yet. Chris never explained and she didn't live in Raccoon City. Barry was the only reason Chris came here and the potential job that living here provided. He sighed into the phone.

"Umbrella Corporation. They're a pharmaceutical company and they have their hand in most, if not all, companies around Raccoon City. They're large worldwide."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I'm a college student. It's not like I can just pay for the most expensive medicines. I've heard of them but why would they—"

"Just promise, Claire."

There was silence from the other line. No distant sound of a television or upset boyfriend could be heard. Just silence. And Chris waited because he knew all too well how such demands could sound and how worrying they could be but Claire was strong and he knew she could handle it.

"Hun, can you run and get my purse?" Chris heard from Claire though it sounded distant as if she had put the phone down to speak, "Because I want to make sure my wallet's in it. Thanks." A pause of silence and she spoke again. "Chris, are you in danger?" her tone was hushed once again and she sounded almost frantic.

"Yes," Chris stated. "I can't tell you why."

"Of course you can't. You expect me to just be okay with this? Hold on," Claire hissed into the phone and Chris could hear the rustling as she pressed the phone to her torso. Chris couldn't hear what she said this time but she returned quickly. "Sorry, he doesn't know much about you."

"He can't know about this."

"I know."

Chris heard Claire sigh and Chris sat back.

"I'm not expecting you to be okay with anything, Claire. I expect you to trust me. Eventually, I will tell you everything and you may not believe me but things will make sense."

"I hope you're right, Chris."

"I am. You still haven't promised me—"

"Fine, fine. I promise. Just don't get yourself killed. I don't care how crazy you are."

"Dying isn't what I'm worried about."

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><p>Chris stared at the splotched white ceiling above his head whilst he was lying half naked under blankets that were pulled to his waist. He was listening to the rain against his bedroom window and the roof of his apartment. He enjoyed the rain. It relaxed him. His right hand tucked itself under the back of his head and his mind wandered momentarily.<p>

He was stuck on Barry and how Wesker would inevitably blackmail him. _Maybe,_ Chris thought, _Maybe Wesker wouldn't blackmail him at first. Wesker is sneaky, he could encourage Barry to assist with things, use his title as Captain and the unmovable trust Barry held to his advantage. _

Chris scowled.

Wesker could easily have Barry spy on Chris without Barry getting suspicious in the slightest. Barry would run to Wesker in a heartbeat if Chris told him anything about the future. Jill would too, Chris realized.

Chris turned on his side and closed his eyes. He had to be careful.

* * *

><p>Chris walked into the S.T.A.R.S office with a smile on his face. He opened up both P.O boxes and currently had one large packet on its way to the box closest to Claire. He wouldn't put anything in the Raccoon City one for a while as he was still gathering evidence and figured it would be a bit suspicious if anyone was watching him.<p>

Maybe Chris was being paranoid but to anyone who knew Chris, they would immediately think he was acting strange. He needed to keep everything quiet.

"Feeling better?" Barry asked.

Chris looked up to find Barry leaning near Jill's desk. Jill had something pulled up on her computer screen and both had their necks strained to look at Chris.

"Yeah, thanks," Chris responded with a smile and nod.

He shed his coat and hung it over the back of his seat, as per usual.

"What happened Friday? I've never seen you like that, Chris," Barry said quietly, walking towards Chris' desk. Jill was on his heel.

"Nothing, I just wasn't feeling well. I think I came down with something over the weekend but I'm fine now. Whatever it was, it didn't last long."

"Good to hear, Chris," Barry said with a nod. A strong hand rested on Chris' shoulder for a moment before he turned and went to his desk.

Jill remained. She stood, arms crossed over her chest and body rigid. Her eyes were planted to the floor and Chris saw that she was worrying her lip.

"I'm sorry, you know," Chris said, voice barely over a whisper.

"Yes, I know," Jill responded just as quietly.

"And for Friday—"

"Yeah," Jill responded. "I was wrong too."

"You weren't wrong. You were saying things that needed to be said. Wrong timing, maybe, but not wrong to say."

"Not all of it. I don't like Captain Wesker thinking I don't trust him just because he keeps secrets from us for our own protection," Jill said with a shrug, "and if you need help you should feel comfortable coming to the group not just Wesker."

"I needed to know whether it was worth looking into, that was all. He didn't think it was at the time. Still, things in S.T.A.R.S haven't been very comfortable lately, have they?"

"I guess that's our fault."

"Look, why don't we go out to dinner—" the look that appeared on Jill's face was _almost_ priceless. The mix of fear and anger and a bit of dry humor before Chris continued quickly, "—As friends!"

Jill looked at him doubtfully and muttered, "I don't have to wear makeup?"

"You could wear pajamas for all I care."

"Fine. Tomorrow? I have to babysit tonight for Barry."

"That's fine. Whatever works."

"We have another defense class at eleven," Jill sighed. "I was thinking of doing some shooting practice before then. You know I could always use the practice."

"We all could."

"Not you. You're the best sharpshooter in Alpha!" Jill laughed.

_Piers was better_.

"No better than Captain Wesker, I'm sure!" Barry shouted with a laugh from his desk.

"I heard my name," Wesker stated, stepping out of his office.

The blond wore his sunglasses inside and nobody questioned him. Chris sometimes wondered why he bothered. It wasn't bright within the office—in fact, the exact opposite—and Chris had even seen him wear the damn things at night. Chris wondered if it was because his eyes portrayed so much of his emotion. Wesker had an outstanding poker face, the best Chris had ever seen, at least. But Chris could look into his eyes and see what emotion he was feeling almost as easy as feeling it himself.

Though, Chris wasn't sure if it was _just_ him or if others could read him as easily as well.

"Who do you think is a better sharpshooter, Captain?" Jill asked. "You or Chris?"

"Chris, definitely," he stated seriously. "My skill resides in my swift movements and knowledge of the human mind. I can easily assume what someone will do next in any given situation and I am rarely wrong. This being said, Chris' skill lies in his concentration and precision."

"That's true. I guess that's why you're a backup pilot, huh?" Brad chimed from his desk.

"Partially. I actually highly assume you will, at one point, leave us in a very dire situation and we will need someone equally versed in your job to either cover or help us escape. You've already done so once before, Vickers," Wesker explained coldly.

"It was once, Captain! I won't do it again!"

Chris scoffed loudly and shook his head. He never really forgave Brad for leaving them at the Spencer Mansion. It was his fault they were forced to go into the mansion at all, but it was also Wesker's fault for putting him in the situation when he knew what sort of person he was—Chris supposed that was the blond's plan.

Nonetheless, it was stupid.

Or maybe it was brilliant, Chris wasn't sure.

"I'm sure you won't, Vickers. Everyone, get back to work," Wesker barely commanded before turning on his heel. "Redfield!"

Chris sighed and stood from his seat.

"Tomorrow after work?"

"Perfect."

"Great."

Chris nodded to Jill and began walking towards Wesker's office. He wouldn't know why the man possibly wanted to see him after Friday night but he followed him inside.

"The door," Wesker stated.

Chris shut it but stood nearby just in case. Chris could tell from Wesker's tone that he was unhappy. The blond wasn't seething, he rarely did that, but he looked mildly annoyed and was not prepared to handle any bullshit. Luckily, Chris didn't care.

"Sit."

Chris obeyed and sat in one of the chairs in front of Wesker's desk. The desk itself had very little personal objects on it beside the picture. A nameplate, stack of papers, and a desktop were all piled onto it in an orderly fashion.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Irons is upset."

"He's always upset. Throw money at him, he'll be fine."

"He is your boss, Redfield."

"He's yours too, _Captain_."

Chris could feel Wesker's eyes narrow behind the dark glasses that hid them. He saw the blond's jaw clench and watched him change positions in his seat. Wesker's fingers laced together and sat on his lap as he leaned back in his office chair and sighed.

"I covered for you, Redfield."

"Why?"

"You have potential."

_You want me dead_.

"Enough to put your job on the line?" Chris asked. His arms rested on the arm rests where his hands were gripping. Wesker was just such a good liar, it was sickening.

"Yes, Christopher. Enough to put my job on the line."

"So why is he angry?"

"Fridays's incident."

"He's mad that I fainted?" Chris asked with a scoff.

"No, that we had to call in Bravo. He isn't happy about the money spent. I assured him it was a necessity with your health. I may have also threatened a minor lawsuit. Nonetheless, he backed away."

"I appreciate it."

"Of course you do."

"Why am I in here?" Chris asked suddenly. "You don't care for my appreciation so why am I here?"

"I must ask you a question."

"Alright, fire away."

"Do you believe that you would be a better Captain than I am?"

Chris stared at him. He blinked several times and remained quiet as if expecting Wesker to explain the question but he didn't. The blond looked at him expectantly, blond eyebrows raised behind shades and lips pursed.

Chris didn't know what to say.

Because yes, he was a better Captain possibly if only because he didn't betray his team.

…. On purpose.

Honestly, maybe he wasn't a better Captain. Maybe he was just a better _person_ and that's why he would be better but Wesker couldn't know he actually felt like this. Not yet, anyway. That would come later.

"Why would you ask that, Captain?"

"Just answer the question."

"No, of course not."

"And why is that?"

Chris was, once again, taken aback by the question.

"I… Uh.. Well, I mean there's a difference between being a part of a team and leading the team. I'm not a leader. Barry is a leader, maybe, but I'm—"

"You have confidence in your hunches. You don't take authority well, Christopher, you give it. You demand it."

"And that means I want your job?"

"No, of course not. I simply wanted to hear your opinion."

"Fine, okay. Was my response satisfactory?"

"Enough."

"Great. I have a report to write—"

"Very well. Return."

Chris stood and began towards the door. He felt Wesker's eyes on him, felt the silence weigh in the room and he sighed. He looked back towards Wesker and with a quiet voice, mumbled—

"Thanks again."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Oh it's late. It's so very, very late. I know. My birthday is this weekend and I've been swamped for the past two weeks on celebrations and homework. I'm sorry! Expect one _next_ week at the regular time!**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

**Patience and Time Do More Than Strength Or Passion**

_-Jean De La Fontaine_

The room was mostly silent. The clock ticked incessantly on one of the partially padded walls. Chris stood awkwardly with the remainder of Alpha team, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes on the blond in the center of the room. The team seemed far too accustom to waiting around for a member of the team to walk in—this time it was Brad.

Chris eyed the ticking clock and glanced around to his fellow members to find annoyed and angry looks exchanging glances with him.

"I wish Brad would stop forgetting about these damn things. Captain Wesker reminds us before every meeting and Brad _always_ forgets," Jill muttered to Barry.

"Give him a break, he's nervous," Barry responded.

"About what?! There's nothing to be nervous about!"

A pause.

"You have a point," Barry muttered.

"Quiet. I understand your anger but he is still a valued member of this team," Wesker snapped from the center of the room.

Chris rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak. The double doors of the gym burst open and he quickly stopped, turning on his heel. Brad rushed inside babbling through his panting at Wesker who seemed unmoved.

"I'm so sorry sir. I must have forgot—it won't happen aga—"

"Quiet," Wesker repeated.

"Sir," Brad muttered.

"I want to continue with hand-to-hand combat. Some are better than others, obviously. I would prefer if you paired yourself with someone who has an equal talent to your own. Please do so now."

Chris watched as Jill paired with Brad and Joseph paired with Barry. Chris turned back to see Wesker in front of him, smirk on his lips and smug grey eyes visible without the dark shades to block them. Chris sighed and uncrossed his arms.

"What makes you think we're compatible in hand-to-hand?"

"The lack of compatibility you seem to have with anyone else suggests we have similar talent," Wesker said, the smirk unmoving.

"You mean just because everyone else decided to pair up with someone that means you're obviously a better fit?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Fine."

Wesker's smirk renewed and he looked to the others as he spoke.

"Everyone seems to have a partner, correct?"

A scattered variety of 'yes, sir' came from the group and Chris grumbled under his breath pulling Wesker's attention for a moment before he looked back to the group.

"Begin," Wesker said before turning back to Chris.

Wesker seemed to have a special kind of talent when it came to confusing Chris because the blond looked at Chris expectedly, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smirk on his lips. Wesker hadn't necessarily given the group a task. Hand-to-hand varied so greatly and each person had a skill that mirrored their partner but with no direction, they had little to do with that skill.

Chris glanced around. Everyone seemed a bit lost as well. Jill was laughing as Brad put up two fists in preparation before laughing himself. Barry and Joseph were talking each other through steps of various hand-to-hand moves.

Chris turned back to Wesker.

"What are we doing exactly?"

"What would you like to do?" Wesker countered smoothly.

"What are you expecting from me?"

Wesker shrugged.

Chris scoffed and shook his head in exasperation.

"What do you want me to do? You expect me to hit you? Or do you want me to take hits from you just because you're my captain?"

In one swift movement that Chris didn't see coming, the blond's fist went flying. The strong punch landed on Chris' jaw causing him to reel backwards. His hand grabbed his jawline, holding it as if expecting pain but it took a moment for the ache to settle in. He felt it swell, felt the sting as his body caught up with the action and the shock quickly wore off.

"You BASTARD!" Chris growled, looking up at him.

This pulled the attention of the room.

"Oh, I apologize. I didn't realize an assailant would converse with you before attacking," Wesker responded.

Wesker stepped forward and Chris stepped back.

As much as Chris wanted to fight Wesker—as much as he desperately wanted to attack him—he couldn't. He may not be able to stop himself if he (somehow) got the upper hand but he honestly didn't know what his strengths were right now in his younger body. He was fast on his feet, probably because he was smaller now than he was before—or later, time was confusing—nonetheless he didn't look like he would be punching any boulders anytime soon so he knew it wasn't right to try and go against Wesker.

"I'm not fighting you!"

"I'm just like them, Chris. I am nothing more than one of your colleagues. I'm not your boss nor your captain. I am a man. Hit me."

"I'm not going to—"

Wesker threw another punch. Chris blocked it this time but he was easily overpowered and a second punch was thrown. Chris stumbled once again, left hand clutching his stomach. He looked up at Wesker to find him smirking as smug as ever.

"Why do you want me to fight you? I don't _get_ you!" Chris growled. "You're my captain!"

"And you are a sharpshooter who has more potential than you believe. You don't need to hide behind a gun, Christopher. I would like to see your talent first hand. Show me. I know you would like to—it's quite obvious, you know. I understand your issues with authority—"

"I don't have issues with authority until my boss starts demanding I hit him!" Chris shouted, hand pulling from his aching stomach to wave around in exasperation.

"Oh but you do. A simple dream has put you into a state of paranoia that I cannot seem to pull you out of so I insist you hit me."

"A dream?" Chris cursed under his breath and shook his head. "Insist all you want but I'm not going to hit yo—"

Wesker stepped forward and before Chris stepped backwards a nimble kick had him stumbling for a third time. Chris caught himself and coughed.

"I'm not doing this, Wesker! I'm done with this game!"

"And yet."

Wesker tilted his head and he smirked.

His lips mirrors Chris' nightmares of the man- the very same nightmares that traveled with him before and after Africa. The smirk the man wore when he betrayed S.T.A.R.S.

Chris stopped thinking and attacked.

He bolted forward and in that moment, he forgot he was in S.T.A.R.S. He quite suddenly remembered being part of the B.S.A.A and being a captain and the fact that he had already defeated Wesker and he was on Wesker in no time.

He leaped at him and managed to knock them both over. Wesker landed backwards with Chris straddling his waist haphazardly. Chris had accidentally pinned Wesker's right hand with his knee but the left was free and punching at Chris wildly.

Chris dodged the punches and landed one across Wesker's left cheek. Chris dodged another punch and got a second hit in before Wesker dislodged his trapped hand and quickly overpowered Chris. Wesker was stronger than Chris in more ways than one and was easily able to flip them over. Chris attempted to shove his knee between them to get Wesker off but he just wasn't that flexible and Wesker left no room between himself and Chris.

"This isn't necessarily what I expected but it will do," Wesker said, hands defending Chris' lacking punches easily.

Chris ignored him and struggled backwards until a blow to the side had him twisting into himself. He groaned and attempted to block a punch to the jaw but failed and it landed against his jawline.

"Twisted bastard," Chris growled.

Chris used all the weight he could muster to knock the blond off of him. It wasn't smooth and the blond fell with more grace than expected but Chris had gotten him off. Chris flipped around and tackled him once again. He swiftly fought strong kicking legs and the limber body beneath him before settling over him once again.

"Whatever you need to say to me, say it! I'm tired of this, Wesker!" Chris hissed, blocking a flying arm.

"I have said all I needed to say, Christopher. I believe it is you who needs to say something, don't you agree?"

"No, I don't agree. You're full of it, you know that?" Chris hissed throwing a blow to Wesker's cheek again. "You think you're so great, don't you? The great Captain Albert Wesker. Untouchable. That's BULLSHIT," Chris growled. "You want me to treat you like a human instead of a captain? _Act_ human. You're nothing but a machine doing what Irons tells you to do and you think I'm the exact same thing. You think I'm a machine that follows orders but I'm not—"

Wesker grabbed Chris' right hand by the wrist and when Chris' left came flying, he copied the action.

Chris pulled but the grip held strong.

"On the contrary, I hired you because you _aren't_ a tool and I refuse to continue to use you as such. I wanted this passion, Christopher," Wesker's voice turned hushed and the man spoke under his breath as he said, "I rarely ever get to see it anymore, after all."

Chris froze and sat back.

Wesker released his wrists.

If it wasn't for the sudden punch across his cheek that sent Chris jolting to the right and falling from Wesker, he surely would have called the blond a liar or questioned him or _something_. Instead, he rolled out of reach across the padded floor and sat up on his knees.

He stood unsteadily.

Wesker gracefully rose to his feet and brushed himself off.

Neither spoke.

The team remained silent and still.

Chris held his bruising stomach as he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

><p>Nobody followed him.<p>

He remained sitting in the office for the remainder of the hour, mind wandering and eyes glued to the desktop screen that said something about one of his previous missions that he didn't remember. His chin was swelling and his fingers frequently danced on the skin that ached there. His stomach was sore and he was sure it was turning a lovely shade of blue. His side had an equal throb of pain that was shared with his fists that obviously hadn't been worked with enough to handle something so… physical.

He questioned Wesker's intent for the whole damn thing. Had he really wanted Chris to release all the pent up anger? Chris scoffed—the blond obviously didn't know just how much anger was there under the worry and confusion of the young brunet.

And what the hell did Wesker mean? He wanted to see passion?

Chris sighed. The man's games were becoming even more ridiculous. Chris was almost missing the completely evil blond—at least he was sloppy then. His head isn't being persuaded by the T-virus. Wesker is, mostly, in control and able to put up a façade.

Chris just can't seem to upkeep a calm, collected, unknowing appearance.

When he was beginning to hear the rustle of people returning, Christ almost ran.

He stood, had a hand gripped on the coat hanging on the back of his chair, and almost left.

But he released his jacket and took a seat and when his team members walked in he ignored them. Each person walked past him or by him but nobody stopped to question him or ask his wellbeing. They all sat and continued their work.

Wesker, on the other hand, was one of the last to enter. He stepped into the office, took several striding steps, and stopped somewhere near Chris.

"A word?"

Chris sighed and stood.

The blond led the way to his office, Chris walking grudgingly behind him. Chris stepped into Wesker's office first and allowed the blond to close the door. Chris crossed his arms and watched Wesker close the blinds of his office so the only light came from the lamp hanging above his desk.

"What is this about?"

"You walked out of a necessary—"

"You hit m—"

"QUIET!" Wesker snapped. It had been so long since Chris had heard Wesker shout let alone in anger. "For once, Christopher, stay silent. Allow someone to finish a thought without you rushing in and making assumptions."

Chris stepped back and his heel hit the wall opposite of the door. Chris leaned back against the cold wallpaper and tightened his crossed arms. He remained quiet.

"I am quickly growing tired of your insubordination, Christopher. Your recent actions have increasingly grown troublesome with not only me but S.T.A.R.S as well. I have repeatedly attempted to relate to you and assist you in moving past whatever you seem to be holding me responsible for and you have refused every single turn," Wesker spoke calmly though his Captain voice was loud and clear. Somewhere during his speaking, he began pacing back and forth across his office as if he was completely unable to stand still.

Chris stayed silent and Wesker continued after a brief pause.

"I cannot have you doing this, Christopher. I cannot cover for you only to have you turn around and disobey me. I am your captain. You must have respect for me. If I don't see a change I will take action."

"Action?" Chris responded quickly.

"Yes. This is a job, Christopher. I understand you may frequently forget your place here in S.T.A.R.S but you are simply a piece of many. You are valuable, yes, but you are not invaluable."

"And you are?"

Wesker gave a dry chuckle but didn't respond.

Chris allowed the silence to hang between them. Both could hear the S.T.A.R.S team through Wesker's closed door working about within the office. Sounds of typing, laughter, and conversation seeped through but Chris barely heard any of it. He was far more focused on how ridiculous this was.

Maybe he was challenging Wesker a little more than his younger self would—well, a lot more, really. Chris never truly challenged Wesker on anything until Wesker betrayed them. Nonetheless, suddenly he was showing a backbone and Wesker couldn't handle it? Chris scoffed under his breath and hung his head. It was already difficult to look at Wesker without glaring but _now_—

Chris felt the faint throb from his chin and almost smiled. Wesker was human—he was surely feeling the same thing. Chris glanced up to find a dark spot forming atop Wesker's left cheek where it was swelling. Wesker's right hand was mostly immobile and Chris realized it was most likely due to his landing on the damn thing. He even saw the blond holding it with his left hand and rubbing it carefully.

"You want to fire me because you hit me so I hit you back? Is that it?" Chris finally asked.

"Oh no, I wanted you to hit me. In fact, I would have preferred you hit me much harder than you did. You held back quite a bit," Wesker stated almost passively. "My reasoning lies in my statement. You could have simply obeyed my command and hit me as I instructed. Instead, you attempted insulting me before and during, and then you ran before my instruction ended. This is atop your numerous incidents last week."

"So what do you want from me, then? I'm tired of having these talks, Captain."

"A little bit of respect goes a long way, Christopher."

"Respect?" Chris snapped.

A heavy inhale and slow exhale calmed Chris _just_ enough. Just enough to where Wesker's surprised expression didn't toss him into a frenzy of anger. Instead, Chris tilted his head slightly and gave a single nod.

"You're right, I've lost respect for you."

"I don't need a reason why—"

"I wasn't going to give one," Chris replied sharply.

Another dark chuckle from Wesker.

"I do have a question, however," Wesker began.

Chris internally smirked.

"An answer for an answer."

"Very well," Wesker stated slowly. "What will it take to return our relationship to its previous state?"

"Captain, you're my boss. I trust you to watch my back and you trust me to follow orders. We know that works—what's so wrong with that? We were never friends. We are colleagues."

Wesker paused and Chris exchanged glanced with him in the silence.

"We weren't always like this, Christopher."

"I understand that. I remember."

"Very well," Wesker repeated.

The blond motioned to Chris.

"What happened to that guy you spoke to at the restaurant last week?" Chris asked slowly.

It was something that had been on his mind for a period of time. The man hadn't looked like anyone Chris knew was related to Wesker so how could the man have _reminded_ Wesker of anyone? Perhaps it was someone undocumented from Umbrella but Chris didn't quite believe that. Chris wanted to make sure the man wasn't dead—or worse turned into some science experiment.

Of course, Wesker wouldn't outright tell Chris if the unknown man was captured or killed but Chris wasn't stupid enough to believe one of Wesker's lies.

Wesker's eyebrows rose at the question.

"I know you saw me watching you. I didn't want to go home that night but I didn't want to talk to you—anyway, I just want to know," Chris said, ending the sentence as strongly as possible.

"I slept with him," Wesker shrugged.

Chris blinked at the statement.

"I apologize for the bluntness but—"

"No… I was the one who made the mistake of asking."

Another cloud of silence and Wesker exhaled heavily.

"Don't make me fire you, Christopher. I would truly rather not. As I said, you are valuable."

"I understand."

"Very well, you may return to your work," Wesker stated dismissively.

"Sir," Chris said with a light nod before quickly exiting Wesker's office.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Okay so Saturdays will be the day I upload chapters from now on. There will be no new chapter next weekend as it is Wondercon and that's where I will be! If you see a girl in a giant purple dress, that's me!**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**Mortality Is Everywhere**

_-Katey Sagal_

Facing his own mortality was a regular occurrence for Chris. He was accustomed to fighting for his life. Chris was even relatively used to having to fight for others' lives—but facing death that already happened and attempting to stop it was a definite first for him. After all, Chris had already dealt with all of their deaths, had accepted there was nothing he could have done to stop them, and had stopped Umbrella in their names. Now there was something he could do. Now, maybe, they could help him stop Umbrella when the time came. Or maybe he could get everyone killed, even himself.

Even as he sat in the van full of people who would face unmentionable horrors and possibly die in the near future, he didn't feel the desire to stop trying. Even understanding the concept of how much messing with time and fixed events in time could affect the future—he wanted to fight. He wanted to save this town, his team, and maybe Piers.

Especially Piers.

But Chris needed to stop putting the man as a priority. His death was more recent but Chris really needed to focus on his team and Raccoon City. Piers was safe for now. That's what mattered.

Chris did notice his sudden interest in people watching increase the days prior to this. He enjoyed sitting at the coffee shop on the corner near his apartment with a cup of coffee with his gaze on the passerby civilians. These people, he realized, would die for something they had no control over—something that was going on in their very city and they just had no idea.

"Movement spotted," Joseph muttered, pulling the attention of the entire van.

Chris quickly glanced around him and found Barry and Jill both following Joseph's gaze to the warehouse they were watching. They were parked in the abandoned parking lot connected to the dark warehouse. The warehouse was suspected of being the headquarters of a drug cartel—though they hadn't seen any evidence of this until three hours into the investigation.

A flashlight light beam was seen reflecting against the glass of one of the few windows with glass.

"There it is again!" Jill whispered motioning to a nearby window.

"Even if it isn't a drug bust, they are most definitely on private property," Barry said towards Wesker who gave a curt nod in return.

It was Wednesday now. Chris' Tuesday resulted in attempting to avoid Wesker which the blond decided required yet another talk between the two. Chris assured Wesker they were fine but Wesker didn't accept that as an answer.

Chris was still sore from Monday's meeting and currently had a bruise suspiciously the size of Wesker's foot on his chest and his cheek was still a little swollen and discolored.

Wesker, however, was absolutely fine. The blond didn't have a single mark on his body. His face looked virtually untouched when he walked into work Tuesday morning and he was back to using his hurt hand as if Chris hadn't landed on it the same day.

"Any movement spotted?" a voice asked through their earpieces.

Wesker responded.

"Minor."

"We have nothing over here," the voice responded.

Chris realized it was Enrico speaking.

"Flashlight movement. I don't feel comfortable proceeding with the investigation," Wesker said into his earpiece.

"I agree," Enrico responded. "Maybe if we send some squads over—"

"My thoughts exactly."

"Shall we call it?"

"I suppose."

Chris almost opened his mouth. He almost pressed the button of his earpiece with the tip of his finger and explained why allowing these three hours going to waste was stupid and why with their combined efforts, they could quietly surround the place and have the location clear within minutes. But Chris stayed quiet.

In this life, Wesker was his captain. To remain where he needed to stay, he had to hold respect—but he couldn't fake it. This was the only way anything good could come out of this.

"I will report the disturbance," Enrico offered.

"You simply wish to avoid Chief Irons," Wesker answered with a hint of humor under his breath.

"You have me there."

Wesker never responded. Instead, the team began switching their weapons to safety and slowly gave them to Barry who disassembled them and placed them into the metallic container that usually held their guns.

"A squad is on their way. They are aware of the situation and understand they only watch the place," Enrico's voice told them.

"Understood," Wesker responded, "Alpha is moving out."

"Copy that. Bravo will follow."

The drive back to the precinct wasn't quiet. Brad and Jill were talking animatedly about something while Barry was showing Joseph how to disassemble and reassemble their guns. Chris remained quiet through the trip, biting his tongue.

Wesker's decision was difficult to ignore.

Wesker noticed the change in Chris and once the group returned to the office, the blond didn't bother to hide the close eye he was keeping on Chris.

But neither said anything to the other and, before long, Wesker vanished from the locker room to speak with Irons leaving Chris with the others.

Chris remained sitting in the locker room as the other S.T.A.R.S members maneuvered around him. His vest was sitting beside him and he was rolling up his gun holster straps when he realized he was alone in the large room.

He was slow today, he realized.

But his mind was blank. He wasn't thinking about Wesker or the warehouse or what was going to happen. He was just… blank.

It wasn't until he returned to the office, slow and feet dragging, before dropping into the seat at his desk. He felt Jill's eyes on him but he turned his attention to his computer and began typing away the report that described sitting in a car for three hours.

It was then that his irritation about the whole mission returned.

"You seem upset," Jill said. Chris looked up and found her leaning a thin hip against the edge of Chris' desk.

"Look, I'm not trying to question Captain Wesker's judgment but—"

"But you're totally going to question it?"

"No, I mean I'm not saying he's wrong. I just…. I don't think he's completely right. We wasted three hours watching that warehouse. We find d out something is there and he leaved it to people less qualified to handle? They could get killed," Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"It's dangerous and requires closer inspection. He allowed us to leave so we don't waste more time. He's doing the right thing, Chris."

"He called both teams out. With all of us there, you seriously don't think we couldn't take on a drug cartel?"

"What if it was a weapon cartel? Or a gang? Or—"

"We're S.T.A.R.S Jill, that's what we're here for. We're paid to keep this city safe. We're not doing shit," Chris was attempting not to raise his voice. He wanted to make sure this didn't escalate to a fight and, from the sound of Jill's voice, so was Jill.

"Chris, we all know about your past. It's difficult. All of our pasts are difficult. But I know what got you here. Don't make the same mistake again, Chris. Just leave it up to Captain Wesker." Jill's voice was soft and cautious and Chris saw this—but that didn't stop the anger.

"Wait a second, _mistake?_ I don't believe what I did was a mistake. I saved lives, Jill. Why would I regret that?"

Jill sighed and shook her head.

"He's your boss. You're here to follow orders."

"Even Wesker told me he doesn't want a spineless droid that only follows orders."

Jill stood straight and crossed her arms. Chris saw the defensive nature and his shoulders tensed.

"You don't deserve to go against orders if you can't respect the man giving them," Jill said quietly.

"I respect him," Chris answered quickly and far too loudly.

"He has a title, Chris. He has saved our lives countless times but you don't have respect for him. You can't see the good with the bad in everything he does. He cares. You should start caring too."

Jill shook her head at her own words, clapped a hand against Chris' shoulder, and returned to her desk.

Chris stood immediately, grabbed the coat from the back of his chair, and left the office.

"Christopher."

Chris looked up to find Wesker walking down the hallway towards him. The brunet sighed and stopped, slipping on his jacket and shoving his fists into the pockets. Wesker took several steps towards him and also stopped, hand full of papers and gun still in his holster.

"Captain."

"I understand it's late—"

"Yes, it is."

A silence.

"—Where are you going?"

"Home."

"I don't quite know if it's _that_ late," Wesker countered carefully.

Chris bit his tongue.

"Please, Captain."

Chris' voice was soft, almost begging. He wanted to leave. He couldn't handle not doing anything anymore. He had to do something and get away from this toxic place.

And maybe Wesker saw this.

Or maybe Wesker just wanted him to beg.

Either way the blond sighed.

"Very well. Tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"Good night, Christopher."

"Night, Captain."

Chris' drive home ended too quickly for the brunet. He wasn't lost in thought. He was blank again. He was gone. His eyes were on the sunset lit road and his hands moved on their own as he made his way home and now that he was home he wanted to leave again.

And so he did.

* * *

><p>Walking into the office Thursday morning had Chris yawning loudly and stretching. He was alone, as usual, and exhausted. Chris had spent all evening driving through the city of Raccoon City and watching the people of the town until the feeling of wanting to do <em>something<em> returned. He returned home late that night and spent the remainder of the night doing research for the collection of evidence.

At this point, he wasn't sure who he was doing it for anymore or what he wanted to come from it.

Was he doing it to prove to himself that this was reality? Or was he doing it to convince Claire that he wasn't crazy?

Did he want anything besides something to do? Or did he want Claire to have to open the P.O box and find the huge packet left for her after Chris died attempting to protect an entire city?

Chris wasn't sure.

He wasn't sure of anything, really.

Even at this point he was questioning Wesker.

Chris knew all too well Wesker had his own agenda. He understood that Wesker was working to betray them, knew the blond was doing experiments on people and animals for the viruses that will plague the city, and was far too aware of Umbrella's involvements.

But he also knew Wesker wasn't on Umbrella's side. He knew that in several years, Wesker would murder Ozwell Spencer, the old man behind a portion of the corporation. He knew Wesker wanted out and the man had no want to take over the world. He wanted power but his mindset isn't that large, yet.

His mindset is much smaller.

Taking down Umbrella.

Chris had some things to consider.

But either way the man, who was now walking into the office, was still his enemy.

"Captain," Chris greeted from his desk.

Wesker paused near the doorway at the voice.

"Redfield. Early once again."

"Well, I left early. I figured I should arrive early and start work," Chris shrugged.

"That is the dedication I crave to see," the blond stated with an appreciative nod.

"You allowed me to leave early, it's the least I could do."

"I suppose."

Wesker continued striding across the room but paused when Chris spoke again.

"How did it go with Irons?" Wesker turned on his heel and raised an eyebrow. "—sorry, Chief Irons."

"As difficult as ever. He believes it was a waste. From the look you gave me yesterday, you seem to agree."

"No, I understand your decision," Chris lied simply. "There's a reason why you're Captain. You make clear, concise decisions by looking ahead rather than in the moment."

"I'm glad you understand."

Chris gave a nod and turned his gaze back to his desktop. Wesker hadn't left, however. His eyes were still on Chris behind those shades and the brunet could feel the intense gaze of the blond.

"I appreciate the improvement," Wesker stated suddenly.

"I'm trying," Chris responded truthfully.

"That's obvious."

Chris looked up expecting one of Wesker's classic smirks hiding the monster within by using a façade but what he got was far more interesting. The blond was smiling. Smiling. Chris had never seen the smile on Wesker's lips before but there it was. His tight lips were spread across his teeth with the edges of his mouth upturned. It was soft. Warm.

Wrong.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I know. Oh dear, I know. It's so, so, so late. Next week is my last finals week and then I get all summer to write and be merry. I'm sorry, I really am. Things have been so hectic. Wondercon weekend was absolutely awful and it has one but huge bad spiral since then. I'm uploading this a day sooner than I was going to originally but expect a chapter next Friday as well!**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

**Never Assume The Obvious Is True**

_**-William Safire**_

Chris entered the office Friday with his mind lost in the dinner party the team was attending. He understood Wesker could attempt the blackmail at any time and he had to keep a close eye on both Barry and Wesker. Barry couldn't be left alone with the blond. That was that.

But Chris understood it would be difficult to constantly watch the two and realized he probably wouldn't be able to necessarily watch them as closely as he liked.

Chris didn't move much from his spot at his desk that day. He remained seated, eyes flashing from Barry, who also wasn't moving much, to his desktop screen. Midway through the day, Wesker emerged from his office and Chris was visibly on edge as he felt the blonde's gaze on him. Chris just continued typing the report he had been working on and soon he looked up and Wesker was gone.

Slowly, the office began emptying out as it usually did on slow Fridays. Chris waited until Barry left before submitting the report he had finished hours before. He began shutting down his desktop and cleaning off his desk when Jill's voice rang out behind him.

"Hey, do you want to carpool? Jill asked, almost surprising him.

He assumed she left hours before as she was usually up to date on her reports. One of his favorite memories was being stuck in the office Friday evening with Wesker, Barry, and Brad trying to complete his reports before the weekend and never was Jill there with him.

"Yeah, I don't quite know where Barry lives," Chris sighed.

"You have the memory of a goldfish, Chris," Jill laughed. "Fine, I'll drive."

"Thank you," Chris sighed.

"We'll see you there, Captain!" Jill shouted towards Wesker's office. The blond appeared in the doorway of his office with a grimace and Jill immediately scoffed. "No, no, no! Don't you dare!"

"I am not backing out, Miss Valentine," Wesker assured with a dark chuckle.

"Damn right you're not. We need this. Our _team_ needs this."

"I thought we're family?" Chris mocked, avoiding a playful slap to the arm.

"Shut up, Chris," Jill cackled before landing a punch to Chris' upper arm.

"Children," Wesker quietly chuckled from across the room and Jill simply smiled.

"See you there, Captain."

"Of course."

Chris finished packing his belongings and followed Jill to her broken down blue truck that was sitting in the parking lot. He climbed inside after glancing at the nearby impressively expensive cars and pulled the seatbelt down—it was broken.

"It's my dad's truck. I know I should get a better one but—"

"It's fine. You should probably get this fixed, though," Chris motioned to the missing belt.

Jill nodded, "I know, I know. I just got it. I was fine with carpooling with Barry but Dad needed the money."

Chris didn't respond and Jill started the car after several attempts. Halfway through, Chris almost suggested taking his car but the engine roared to life just as he opened his mouth. Soon after they were on their way towards Barry house in a comfortable silence with quiet classic rock playing on the radio. Jill drove through town and Chris, once again, began to watch the citizens of Raccoon City. _Would these people die?_ The question repeated itself over and over in Chris' head as he grew a mild attachment to each person he laid eyes on. He watched a mother hold the hands of her two children as they crossed the street and felt a twinge of guilt within him despite being well aware that it wasn't his fault. The Raccoon City incident was not caused by STARS but that did not lift the guilt.

"You and Captain Wesker have been a little on edge lately. You two make up yet?" Jill asked, pulling Chris' attention. Chris looked at her and found her glancing toward him, dividing her attention between Chris and the road. She laughed and shook her head at the surprise from Chris. "You don't have to answer," she said, "I just want to make sure everything is okay."

"We were never fighting," Chris sighed, "It's complicated."

"Yeah, I know it's complicated. When Barry suggested it, I thought he was joking but now—" Jill paused and shook her head, "—it's impossible to miss!"

Chris allowed her to talk without a single idea as to what she could be referring to. He listened and remained silent while she spoke. Even after she was finished, he remained quiet but that didn't seem to be an issue as she just continued talking.

"Of course, I'm okay with it," she said quickly, "I just wish you would have told me about everything directly. I'm not blaming you though!" Jill sighed and shifted in her seat as she stopped at a stop light and finally looked at him—obviously missing his face that was twisted in confusion. "I'm sorry, I'm probably making you uncomfortable. I'm just glad you two worked it out, that's all."

Jill seemed to be babbling out of her own self-doubt—a habit she never outgrew—But Chris usually understood what she was saying through her babbling. At this point, he was more than a little lost and wasn't liking what she was insinuating if he was truly hearing her correctly.

"Worked what out?" Chris finally answered after attempting to work through his own confusion.

"Your issues with Captain Wesker," Jill said, her eyes back on the road as they continued through town.

"Sure, something like that, I guess."

The two were quiet and Chris was running Jill's words through his head. Whatever she was thinking, Barry was thinking it too, apparently, and he wasn't thrilled to have to face that. Just as the buildings around them began to disappear and fields of long grass came into view, Jill spoke again.

"So are you two together now?"

The question hung in the air between them for a minute… and then two, yet the smile on Jill's lips remained even as Chris stared at her in utter disbelief.

"I… what?" Chris asked.

"Together—like a couple."

"Why would we be?"

From Chris' time period, homosexuality was common. He wasn't remotely offended that she was questioning his sexuality because, if he was honest with himself, he was too versatile to really care about labels. Hell, one drunk night with Piers and one drunk night with Jill was the same for him and both had happened on multiple occasions. Chris was far more offended that Jill thought he would choose Wesker of all people.

Of course, from her perspective, Wesker is an attractive blond with power, looks, and an impressive mind. But to Chris, Wesker was nothing but a disgusting monster.

"Wasn't that why you fought? I mean you really can't miss the tension between you two. It was bad enough that Barry noticed so it isn't just me seeing things!"

"Tension somehow means we're together? That makes absolutely no sense, Jill," Chris sighed.

"You have yet to deny it, Chris. What else am I supposed to believe?"

"Believe that me refusing to talk about this is a sign that it's making me uncomfortable and we should change the subject because I am not dating our captain."

Jill gasped lightly.

"I am not fucking him either."

Jill laughed as she pulled into a neighborhood in the rural part of Raccoon City, "Fine, fine," she insisted, "I'll make sure to tell Barry you two aren't sleeping together."

"Can my nonexistent sex life not be part of your girlish rumors?" Chris asked with a smile and the two laughed for a moment.

"Yes, I promise. Unless you actually sleep with him—" Jill turned again, "—then it's free reign, Chris."

"Considering I won't ever sleep with him, I can allow that."

"You never know what might happen," Jill said turning into a driveway that Chris didn't remember very well.

"I really do," Chris laughed, "and don't bring this up with Wesker. He won't be able to laugh it off like us."

Chris glanced around and saw that Wesker had yet to arrive but Barry's car was sitting in the driveway. The screen door on the porch of the house was closed but the door was open and Chris could hear the sounds of pots and pans being shuffled around as he opened his door and Jill shut off the car.

"Yes, I promise that as well."

"Good."

Chris stepped out of the truck and glanced up to find Barry in the doorway with a smile on his face. He shut the door and heard Jill shut hers before Barry opened the screen door and greeted them.

"I just got a call from Joseph—He'll be dropping by in a bit. I guess his girlfriend isn't feeling well or something."

"Tell him to stay with her," Chris said without thought, "He should take care of her."

Barry laughed and exchanged a worried glance with Jill, "She has a friend taking care of her, Chris. I'm sure she's fine."

"Joseph's spent all day with us. He should spend tonight with her."

"Fine, I'll call him," Barry sighed and turned on his heel, "Come on in- make yourselves at home. Kathy took the girls to her parents' house so we have the place to ourselves tonight." Barry walked through the house with Jill and Chris on his heel. Both had been inside Barry's house before but Chris didn't remember any details. "Is the captain coming?" Barry asked as he stepped into his living room and motioned for them to sit.

Both took a seat opposite each other on the sofa and Jill answered Barry's question as Chris began to look around in an attempt to jot his memory. The place was large, perfect for Barry and his family. The living room had one leather sofa in it with a similar loveseat sitting opposite the couch against the wall. Between them sat a glass coffee table and a television was idle in the corner. It was older and clunky compared to what Chris was accustom to in his time period but it was large, had a VCR built in, and sat atop an entertainment center. Children's movies were set in rows on the shelves and pictures of the happy family could be seen lining the entertainment center. The carpet was brown and layered under Chris' boots and the smell of chicken filled the air around them.

"Yeah, Captain Wesker is coming. He had to close up the office and he threw a little bit of a fit—"

"Excuse me, I did no such thing," The trio heard from the front door.

Barry laughed and rushed down the hallway Chris and Jill had been led through before returning with Wesker on his heel.

"Sorry, Captain, but it's kinda true," Jill laughed as Wesker sat on the love seat and crossed his legs.

He removed the sunglasses from his nose and inserted them into his breast pocket inside his coat. He, apparently, had never been inside of Barry's house as he glanced around the room with mild interest before speaking, "I quite disagree."

"I'm sure you do," Chris sighed and turned back towards Barry, "You need any help?"

"Yeah sure, come on back."

* * *

><p>Barry didn't <em>actually <em>need help, apparently, and spent a large amount of time reminding Chris that 'keeping things hidden from friends can't possibly be healthy' before Chris insisted, flat out, that he wasn't gay. Barry simply gave up and called Joseph to insist he stay with his girlfriend, a conversation Chris wasn't very interested in sticking around for but stayed and listened to Barry fight with Joseph a moment before the older man shot Chris an exasperated look. Chris, quickly, retreated and made his way back into the living room.

"I'm just saying if there's something going on between you two—"

"If there was, Miss Valentine, you nor anyone else would be aware of it."

"Jill," Chris sighed, "let it go."

Jill jumped and twisted around to look at Chris before smiling sheepishly and twisting back towards Wesker. The blond smirked and glanced toward Chris who pretended not to notice and, instead, rounded the couches to sit beside Jill.

"I was just insisting our relationship is purely professional," Wesker assured as Chris continued to stare at Jill who blushed.

"Fine, fine! I'll leave it alone," the brunet sighed. "But hey, I invited Rebecca. She's new to S.T.A.R.S and I know we won't be working with her a lot—"

"I think it was a great idea to invite her," Barry laughed, entering the room. The phone in his hand rang and he sighed before vanishing back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I like the idea. Maybe she'll bring some of the others," Chris commented casually.

"I told her she should," Jill responded as she sat back.

Chris could feel the blond's eyes lingering on him. He refused to be the prey that Wesker was treating him like. Chris wasn't quite sure if it was his progressed personality coming out or the fact that his plan was slowly developing and coming together outside of work but either way he twisted his neck and met Wesker's dark gaze with his own challenging eyes. The two stared at each other silently. There was no movement, no nonverbal cues that would explain what they were doing to any onlooker who was currently Jill.

Wesker sat forward, forearms resting on his upper thighs and boots planted firmly on the floor. His usual vest was gone, left at the office, and a blue button up was left in its place. The sleeves of the shirt were bunched up around his large upper arms and his gloves were missing leaving him almost naked in the eyes of Chris who had grown accustom to seeing him in his full uniform the past few days.

Chris' own vest was left at the office leaving behind his white t-shirt with the STARS logo on the left sleeve. Chris was far less aware of his own body now and he felt very strange. He was so used to being much broader and he had grown quiet over the years as he preferred his own thoughts to dealing with people but he was never able to disappear like he wanted. Now that he was smaller, he found himself easily being able to slip out of a conversation and into another without anyone even noticing—except Wesker.

But now, not only did he have Wesker's eyes on him, but Jill's as well as she frantically glanced between the two.

The trio remained quiet and ever-glaring until Barry entered the room again with a heavy sigh.

"Where is that lovely wife of yours?" Wesker asked politely, pulling his gaze from Chris.

"She's spending the night with her parents and the kids. They have a cabin in the mountains—"

"They should consider moving," Chris said quickly, "In fact, if they need help, I'll be glad to—"

"They wouldn't move if the place caught fire. Anyway, that was Brad—"

Chris was standing now as he turned and looked at Barry, "No, Barry, they _have_ to move. They could sell the cabin and go up to Canada—"

"Chris, are you okay?"

It was Jill's voice cutting through his words and Chris looked at her with mild anger at the interruption. He understood how insane he must have sounded to them but there wasn't anything else he could do. What if he failed? And worse, what if he succeeded?

Thousands would be saved but Umbrella never would have been discovered. He hadn't even considered Umbrella's fall. The entire reason the corporation stopped production was the ongoing investigation begun by the collected date from the Raccoon City incident. What would happen without the incident?

"Yeah, I'm fine," Chris said quickly before looking back towards Barry, "Where's your bathroom?"

"Through here—" Barry led Chris back through the hall they'd come and opened one of the closed doors Chris hadn't noticed.

"Thanks," Chris muttered before slipping inside and closing the door, allowing himself to sit in darkness for a moment.

Chris heard Barry's shuffling grow distant as he walked back into the living room. Chris flipped on the light of the bathroom and glanced in the mirror across from him. He would never get used to seeing such a young face look back at him. Chris always had an old soul but not like this. He had lived his life and it was the most exhausting thing he had ever done. Trying to survive was ridiculously difficult in his lifetime and Chris had seen far too many people die over the years.

And now, he was faced with the possibility to stop it all.

"I'm worried about him," Jill's voice echoed distantly.

"He'll be fine," Barry assured though his own tone wasn't nearly convinced.

"Christopher is strong. You needn't worry for him. If he wishes to convey what he is experiencing, he will in his own time. Now, who was on the phone, Mr. Burton?"

"You really don't need to—"

Chris blocked out the voices as he stared at his reflection. He could no longer do this alone. He needed help. And only one person made sense to ask.

Chris straightened, faked a smile in the mirror, and left the room. He was walking back into the living room when he heard the end of Barry's sentence, "—ad is on his way."

"Brad really should have said yes when we asked," Jill sighed though immediately smiled at the sight of Chris. "Feeling any better?"

"Actually, no. I think I'm going to have to skip out for tonight. I really hate to do this but Captain, do you think you could take me back to the station?" Chris asked, eyeing Wesker with a challenging gaze that he knew the blond wouldn't let go.

"I can take you, Chris," Jill offered with a smile.

"No, you should stay with Mr. Burton," Wesker responded without even looking at the woman.

"I told you, Captain—" Barry began.

"I'll return when I'm sure Christopher is home safe," Wesker assured.

Barry and Jill collectively sighed and exchanged glances as Wesker followed Chris out. Neither spoke but the two made their way through the front door and into Wesker's car without even saying goodbye to their colleagues. Wesker started the car and the engine purred to life while Chris buckled his seatbelt and relaxed in his seat.

"Where would you like to actually go?" Wesker asked.

"A bar. Somewhere we can talk."

"Very well," Wesker answered before taking his car out of park and pulling away from the curb. The two continued to remain silent as Wesker pulled out of Barry's neighborhood and began towards whatever bar he had decided on. Chris felt Wesker's eyes linger towards him every few minutes before Wesker finally spoke again, "Could you possibly tell me why I'm driving you to a bar?"

"You won't believe me until I explain."

"I see."

"You really don't 'see'," Chris laughed bitterly.

"Of course I don't. I don't understand what this is about," Wesker responded calmly.

Chris no longer cared if the blond pulled a magnum from under his seat and shot Chris. He wanted to wait until they were in a public place, at least, before bringing it up but maybe Wesker's curiosity would get the better of him. Maybe the blond would wonder how Chris could possibly know such valuable information and would spare him until they were finished at the bar. If Chris could get Wesker to believe his story maybe he, Chris, had a chance to stop the Raccoon City Incident.

Chris inhaled deeply, "I know about your plan to betray STARS set up by the Umbrella Corporation. You want out of Umbrella and I want to take Umbrella down. I think we can help each other." Chris exhaled.

Wesker smirked.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Woah it's been ages. So! Every computer in my household stopped working at the same time and I had to find a new computer. After weeks of searching, two jobs, and several paychecks—I found one! Then I had to wait for it to get here. Then I had to somehow get my files from my other computers. Theeen I had to set it up. It's been exhausting but I have a brand new gaming desktop that goes by the name of "Bayonetta" and she is my new baby. So enjoy the chapter and I'll see ya'll next Saturday!**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 11<span>**

**We Are Rarely Proud When We Are Alone**

_**-Voltaire**_

Wesker remained silent as he drove on but that smirk was frozen to his lips. That smirk haunted Chris for so damn long and here Chris was glad to see it for once as it meant that he _probably_ wasn't going to die. Chris's gaze went to the window and he looked out at the darkening fields before his attention pulled to the mountains against the orange horizon. It was still early in the year and the green of the mountains weren't quite noticeable yet so it was a dull brown reflecting the darkening orange sky.

"Is that so?"

Wesker's voice surprised Chris and the brunet turned to glance at the blond, "Yes, it is," he answered matter-of-factly.

"And why would I betray our team? Is this the return of your nightmares again, Christopher?"

"No, it isn't. I have proof of everything. I can tell you step by step every single move that you plan to make and I can describe how and why you fail in details that you couldn't even dream up, Wesker," Chris swore under his breath, "But I refuse to do this here."

"Very well. But I cannot promise—"

"I don't care for your promises, whatever they are. I know the type of person you are, Wesker, and I know you'll kill me if I take one wrong step."

Wesker hummed a response and grew quiet again. Chris could practically hear the whirling of Wesker's brain go as he questioned everything he had done up to this point. Had he failed his mission? Was Chris worth listening to? Chris knew Wesker well enough to hear these questions out loud and he didn't know whether it sickened him or made him proud.

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><p>Arriving at the dive was a relief for Chris. If he was to be honest, he thought Wesker was going to take him past Raccoon City and shoot him on the outskirts of the forest considering they were at the edge of the city but Wesker didn't. They had driven for over forty minutes getting across town and the sky was now dark.<p>

The streetlights around the bar flickered and the parking lot dimmed for a moment. Chris stood outside of Wesker's car, arms crossed, and eyes glancing at the blond in mild disbelief.

"Of all places you pick a dump?"

"We won't see anyone we know here, at the very least," Wesker responded before closing his door and locking his car.

Chris followed Wesker through the parking lot and into the bar through the back door. The brunet had never been here, as far as he could remember, so he blindly followed the blond past pool tables, patrons, and the busy parts of the bar until they reached the empty back. Several tall tables sat spread apart with stools shoved underneath them, empty and alone.

"Here will do?" Wesker asked, pulling out the stool before Chris even had a chance to answer.

Wesker was sitting by the time Chris nodded, "I guess so. It's a bit crowded—"

"Not a soul cares about two men in the back of a bar with STARS logos on their shirts, I assure you," Wesker responded as he watched Chris climb his own stool, "So what is this about, Christopher?"

"I need your help," Chris sighed, "I never thought I would say that," he muttered under his breath.

"Do ya'll want a drink or two?"

Chris looked up to find a tall blonde waitress standing in front of them. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, she wore a short black skirt with a white button up, and her nametag said 'Sammy' in scribbled writing. She shifted her heel with a click as Wesker looked to Chris before nodding.

"Yes, I believe a drink would do. Whiskey, please," the blond male muttered.

"Yes, sir. And you, cutie?"

This was just another one of those moments that reminded Chris how screwed up his situation was. She would die if he couldn't do this correctly. He didn't know who she was, what type of person she was, or anything about her but she didn't deserve to die.

"Uh same, please," Chris muttered.

"You got it!"

Chris watched her walk away and he was quiet for a long moment.

"Now isn't the time to daydream, Christopher," the blond said disappointedly.

"She's going to die because of your mistake. This entire town will become known as 'The Raccoon City Incident' because the corporation you work for got sloppy. You got sloppy." Wesker remained silent. Chris watched him cross his legs on the stool he sat on and lean back from the table but his eyes never ventured from Chris'. The brunet wasn't sure why Wesker seemed so puzzled. The man worked around hideous BOWs day in and day out. Wesker, himself, was injected with a virus when he was just a kid. So how could Chris knowing the future really be much different?

Maybe Wesker was considering getting rid of Chris. Or maybe Wesker was going through his plans and trying to find the flaw. Or maybe Wesker thought Chris was insane. Any of these could be possibilities and yet none of them really fit Wesker and Chris wasn't happy with any of the assumptions he was making.

"And you are aware of this—how?" Wesker finally asked.

"Here ya'll go," the waitress said, setting drinks in front of both Wesker and Chris.

Chris, who had his mouth open ready to respond to Wesker, smiled and picked up the drink, "thank you."

"Anything else I can get you two?" she looked between the two and eventually ended up on Chris as Wesker still hadn't lifted his gaze from Chris.

"I think we're okay for now. Can you open up a tab?"

Chris shoved his hand into his back pocket only for Wesker to stop him with a hand on his lower arm. Chris glanced up and met Wesker's eyes once again, gaze falling to Wesker's smirk before returning to his piercing eyes once more.

"I'll open the tab. We're with STARS," Wesker said, removing his hand from Chris to grab his wallet. He flipped open his wallet to show his STARS badge and began to fish out his credit card before she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"No money needed here for STARS. Drinks are on the house, sweeties. The town appreciates everything ya'll do for us. I'll keep an eye on your drinks," she promised before winking at the two. She shot them a smile, though Wesker still hadn't looked at her, and walked away leaving Chris watching her yet again.

"You knew she wouldn't make you pay," Chris said finally.

"Of course I did. I bring dates here on occasion."

"Like that guy I saw you with?"

"No, real dates. He was… fun."

Chris hummed in response and picked up the short, fat glass cup before raising it to his lips. Chris could feel Wesker's eyes on him and, after a drink, set the cup down and met the harsh gaze.

"Why are you staring at me?" Chris demanded carefully.

"You've yet to answer my question."

Chris inhaled through his nose and gave a nod, "You're right, I haven't." Chris looked at the man he watched die in a volcano—the man who tried to take over the world—and spoke. "I've lived it. I've already been through the mission you'll put STARS on to test the BOWs Umbrella is making. I know about the T-Virus, the G-Virus, and some viruses you don't even know about yet. I've had to live through the destruction of cities, millions of deaths, and an infinite amount of sickos just like you trying to get one up on the world."

If Wesker was shocked by Chris' words, he didn't show it. He simply gave a single nod and took a drink from his own glass, eyes finally falling to the side as he thought for a moment. Chris took the moment to settle the sick feeling in his stomach—the one that always arose at the thought of Piers.

He took another drink.

"And yet you wish to assist me?" Wesker asked slowly.

"I want a deal. The Raccoon City Incident was an accident. Umbrella never meant for that to happen and neither did you."

"It hasn't happened yet, Christopher," Wesker reminded Chris quickly with a smirk.

Chris quieted for a moment as Wesker's gaze softened yet the smirk stayed. Chris could feel Wesker's plan resorting itself. He could feel that he was quickly coming to a line he should not cross when it came to revealing information and he needed to stop soon.

"The point is," Chris sighed, "You want out of Umbrella. I can help you do that. I devoted my life to learning as much as I could about Umbrella, reading countless reports, trying to track you down. I know you grew up in Umbrella but I'm sure I know more about it than you do, Wesker."

Chris watched Wesker throw the rest of his drink down his throat before setting the empty glass back on the table with a quiet thud that couldn't be heard over the chatter of the bar. Chris raised his own glass and took another small drink. He never thought he would be here but here he was, sitting in front of someone he killed years ago asking for help—no, asking for a deal.

"You don't trust me."

"Of course I don't. Why would—"

"I wasn't finished," Wesker said quietly but Chris stopped speaking, "You don't trust me and yet you still came to me for this. We have a history in this future of yours and yet you want an alliance. Of course, alliances aren't about trust. You need me and you believe I need you. That's how an alliance really works."

"I don't believe you need me, Wesker. I lived it. You're a hot mess. You don't know what you're doing and your own mistakes cause the death of this entire city. I'm sure you don't care about that but I do. You want out of Umbrella? I can help you. But you need to do it my way. And this time, maybe you won't die."

"Here you are, boys!" the waitress announced, lifting a new drink from the tray she carried before setting it in front of Wesker. She picked up the empty glass and glanced to Chris.

"Still working on it," he muttered, lifting it with a shrug.

"That's fine. I'll be back, sweetie."

She was gone within seconds and Wesker chuckled darkly, "Very dramatic, Christopher. I die, do I?"

"You do," Chris responded, no hint of laughter in his voice. In fact, his voice was gruff as he recalled one of the worst days of his life. One of. He shouldn't have more than one day where so many of his friends die right in front of him. And then of course Piers.

"How many times have you practiced this, Christopher?"

Chris pulled himself out of the drifting gaze he had caught himself in looking confused before saying, "What?"

"How many times have you stood in front of a mirror and tried to look convincing while—"

"You don't believe me," it wasn't a question. Chris sighed and sat forward, resting his forehead on his arm. "You have to believe me. I don't know what else to do," Chris looked back up at Wesker. "You have no idea what it's like, Wesker. These people I'm around day in and day out—they're all dead. I don't know if this is some weird time travel or maybe it's a virus Umbrella is working on or maybe I'm just insane but the point is I have lived over a decade watching everyone I care about die and suddenly everyone is alive and perfectly fine. It wasn't a dream! How else would I know you've been injected with the Progenitor Virus? Or the exact date in 1998 when you will betray STARS? How could I know you're best friends with Sherry Birkin's father, William Birkin—the creator of the G-Virus?"

There was a long pause. Chris was panting, he was sure it was a panic attack coming. Wesker was his last hope. He was the real spark that started all of the events that ruined everything. He could kill Wesker but that wouldn't stop Umbrella. The mansion still existed in the Arklay Mountains and it was guaranteed to be filled with Umbrella scientists and may even be the home to Spencer.

"Are you finished?" Wesker asked finally, pulling Chris back from his thoughts.

"Yes, I'm finished," Chris snapped, rubbing his hands over his eyes viciously.

"Very well. Now, I am scheduled to meet with William Birkin. I was originally working with him on the G Project but Annette took my place," Wesker said, a flash of indignation visible for just a moment. "G has yet to be perfected but Spencer is quite adamant about its completion—"

"Wha-What are you doing?" Chris asked cautiously.

"Updating you on my position. Is this not what you want?" Wesker took a drink of his ignored drink and Chris repositioned himself on the stool.

"So you believe me?"

"Of course not but as I said, I have no need for trust when you have solid proof. I'm far too rational to believe in something like time travel, Umbrella or not. They work slightly advanced chemistry, not interdimensional travel. However, you know quite a bit. I'm not going to question how, not yet, and it's obvious why you're doing it. There's nothing else to question. I accept your deal."

Chris could smile if the man in front of him didn't make him so sick but he did sigh in relief and down the remainder of his drink.

"As I was saying. Spencer is quite adamant about G's completion being before Christmas of this year."

"That won't happen," Chris said quickly.

After Claire's run-in with G, Chris did his fair share of searching the virus. A few files recovered from Umbrella explained where G came from, who was responsible for it, and when it was created.

_November of 1998_.

"As Birkin insists but Spencer wants a date."

"Late next year," Chris said without a beat.

Wesker took a drink and hummed into the glass before setting the glass back down on the table, "This will prove to be quite interesting, I believe."

"I have a few requirements," Chris responded.

"I knew you might."

"STARS will be safe. I have a plan for the mission you are plotting to use to take out STARS. With that, this melee training is shit compared to what these people will be going against in a year. You need to help them succeed. I understand some of them won't make it but give them a chance to prove themselves. No betrayal. I will help you out of Umbrella. Hell, I'll help you survive the night."

"That is the night I die, hm?"

"The first time."

"I inject myself with a virus?" Wesker asked almost immediately.

"And it's the stupidest thing you could have done."

"I quite agree," Wesker muttered, taking another drink.

"What?"

"Injecting myself with an imperfect strand of a virus? The possibilities remain endless and mostly negative,"Wesker explained simply.

"After you inject yourself, you lose yourself. You have to start a daily dose of a specially made serum to stop from losing control. You attempt to take over the world. You kill Spencer."

"Enough. I am done listening to my future mistakes. You are here to stop me from going down this path so rather than informing me of my issues, stop them, hm? I'd rather not lose everything I am working towards because of some demi-god complex I seem to form in the future."

"What are you working towards?" Chris asked carefully.

"Hey, doll! Here you go!" the waitress had already switched Chris' drink and left before Chris could really say anything besides a rushed 'thank you' as she left.

"You'll learn eventually. I don't think we've reached the point in our professional relationship—"

"Fine, don't tell me. I don't care as long as I get what I want."

"Yes, of course," the blond sighed. "Any more of your requirements?"

"Raccoon City will not be just an incident in the future. It will be a town."

"I'll try, I suppose. My plans do not actively include destroy the city, Christopher."

"I know but your mistakes cause it. A self-destruct system was in place to prevent the spread of the virus—" Chris began.

"Yes, I realize that. It's the ending part of my plan to initiate the sequence."

"It doesn't work. The outbreak starts before STARS even gets to the mansion. The forest is overrun with zombies and dogs that escape into the city."

"Very well, we will plan around that. Anything else?"

"The Umbrella Corporation will be destroyed," Chris answered, "Those are my requirements."

"Very well. I approve them. I have no specific requirements. You are here to stop me from making mistakes, do that. Is it fair to say nobody else is to know about this?"

"What would I tell them? That I'm here from the future to save them? Why do you think I'm coming to you in the first place, Wesker?"

"Albert, please."

Chris shifted in his seat and his eyes fell to his fingers that were tracing shapes on the side of the glass. He could feel Wesker's gaze on him, the way the male's eyes pierced him made him want to stand up and leave but he didn't. Chris sat there for a moment, letting the statement hang in the air until finally he looked up.

"No."

"Very well. Call me what you wish," Wesker responded simply.

Chris didn't respond. He was back to examining his cup and Wesker let him. Wesker allowed him to sit and stare at the condensation from the ice within the cold cup and the blond didn't stop watching him the whole time. It was another few minutes before Wesker spoke again, breaking the silence between them.

"You look dreadful."

"I'm exhausted," Chris muttered.

"Obviously," Wesker said passively, fingers grasping at the cup but not quite lifting it.

"You have no idea how it feels, Wesker. I'm surrounded by my friends and colleagues who died over ten years ago, I have to act civilly to the monster that attempted world domination, and I can't fight the guilty feeling that swallows me whenever I see any living person. Even people I don't know. Whether it's real or not doesn't matter. It's real to me, dammit, and I can't just ignore it," Chris finished his words by taking a drink of his whiskey, exchanging glances with Wesker once his cup was back on the table. "What?" Chris asked when Wesker's glance steadily shifted to a stare.

"Not many people would be as…" Wesker trailed off and Chris scoffed.

"Stupid? Emotional?"

"… I was going to say caring."

"I don't even know if I do care," Chris answered harshly. From his tone of voice he was obviously disgusted with what he was saying but it was the truth and, if he was honest, it felt nice to say the words. So he continued. "I've done this for far too long and I'm done. Every time I try to get a break, something happens. I thought we finally had Umbrella beaten, then Tricell was exposed. I thought we finally caught Spencer, you killed him. Then Jill was kidnapped and when I finally got her back and we were ready to keep going together—" Flashes of his lost team ran through his mind like still photographs bringing dreadful amounts of remorse and regret. He took a nice, long, drink and found it empty. "—My point is," he continued, "I'm doing it because I feel like I have to. When I made that decision to devote my life to fighting Bioweapons, I never thought that I might, at some point, want a break."

Wesker simply listened to Chris ramble. Chris supposed his younger self wasn't as accustom to drinking alcohol as much as his older self so he quickly realized he was getting tipsy but when the waitress brought another over, Chris just smiled and downed it just like the rest. It was a slow, growing buzz—the best kind, in Chris' opinion, and as time went on, the buzz grew and he continued talking.

"There's no reason for me to feel guilty," Chris laughed dryly and looked at Wesker, "but who will if I don't?"

"You do enjoy your dramatics, don't you?" Wesker asked causing Chris to chuckle once and nod.

"Not nearly as much as you do. You turn into a comic book villain," Chris said before tipping the glass against his lips.

"I highly doubt that," the blond responded, reaching across the table to lower the glass from Chris, "I believe you've had enough."

"And I _believe_ I don't need you to tell me when I've had enough," Chris shot back, lightly pulling from Wesker's loose grip to finish off the drink in spite.

"You are correct, you don't. However, drinking will not make your issues go away," Wesker stated and smirked when Chris shot him a glare.

"I don't expect you to understand," Chris muttered and waved the waitress over.

"Why? Because you view me as some monster that I've yet to become?"

Chris didn't look at the blonde waitress when she took his empty glass and placed a newly refreshed one down in its place. He didn't mutter a thank you and he didn't watch her leave. Instead, he looked up at Wesker and was surprised when he didn't see those glowing red eyes. The eyes that bore into him were blue—almost grey—and surprisingly human. The man in front of him was human.

And that confused him to no end.

"Yeah," Chris paused before adding quietly, "I do."

"I understand why you can't trust me but do not believe I am incapable of understanding how confused and lost you are. I am not beyond that- yet," Wesker paused and Chris assumed he was done but he continued after a dry smirk graced his lips, "I do not care if you trust me, Christopher. I do hope you understand something rather crucial, though."

"And what is that?" Chris asked carefully.

"I realize I am not your first choice but I am the only one aware of your situation and I am offering to help. Perhaps you should take my offer."

Chris opened his mouth because why would he take anything from Wesker? Why would he look for help or guidance or anything from the blond terror that was Albert Wesker? And then it dawned on him—the same dreading, guilty, anxious feeling washed over him but not for the same reason it usually did.

Chris wasn't alone anymore. Chris had help. Chris' plan was working. And Wesker was right, Chris didn't like the fact that it was the blond helping but Chris couldn't do much about it. The fact was—Chris wasn't alone.

Chris wasn't alone.

That thought had him feeling so relieved and yet anxious as the man across him smirked and shifted in his seat.

But Chris wasn't alone.

So the brunet closed his mouth and smiled at Wesker because yes, the man across from him was a lying monster and possibly the most untrustworthy person on Earth but Chris had _someone_.

"Should I take that as a yes?"

"Yeah, I guess you should," Chris said slowly before taking another drink from the untouched glass in front of him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Two computers later, I'm back. With a Dell this time! Also there's a long, terrible, and sad story as to why this has taken so long. Please look to my Tumblr (or just send me a message) if you would like to know. Thanks to those who have been patient. I'm attempting to juggle a lot of stuff at the moment including money issues, a boyfriend, a job, and school so I'm really grateful for the encouraging reviews and messages! Those are really what pushed me to continue! Thanks again, guys.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

**The Trust Of The Innocent Is A Liar's Most Useful Took**

_**-Stephen King**_

Chris doesn't remember much past clinking glasses with Wesker before finishing off another drink in a single swoop. Even as he laid half-conscious wherever the hell he was laying, his mind attempted to search through the empty parts of his head. He was somewhere comfortable, at least, but that didn't take away from the aching joints or the splitting headache that plagued him the moment he even _attempted_ to open his eyes. With his eyes firmly closed, he shifted and groaned when he realized he was still fully clothed in the previous day's clothing and the indents in his skin from how he was laying on his pants could be felt tinging at his hip.

With his fingertips at his temple, he slowly opened his eyes and glanced around. He was in his room, apparently. His S.T.A.R.S room, of course. Another groan and he shifted to sit up. He regretted it once his feet hit the carpet but he remained sitting with his head bowed and his eyes closed.

He really needed to stop drinking.

But the thought was removed from his mind when he glanced up and found a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on his bedside table. He questioned it, only for a moment, before making use of Wesker's gift. Slowly, he stood and eventually was able to kick off his work pants and shirt, tossing them _somewhere_ near where his dirty clothes pile. He pulled a pair of pajama bottoms from somewhere, honestly he just grabbed whatever he saw, and slipped them on before making his way to the bathroom.

He finished quickly and washed his hands before splashing some water on his face. It was enough to make him slightly more alert and the throbbing pain slightly less bearable. He glanced at his reflection before switching off the light and leaving the bathroom. As he made his way towards the kitchen, he passed through the living room but didn't bother to glance at the body on his couch considering he didn't see it until it shifted. Chris physically stopped.

Albert Wesker was asleep on Chris' couch. The blond was on his back, arm folded over his eyes, and his lips closed but Chris could hear the man breathing deeply. His shirt was off, folded neatly under his head where his day old hair gel was beginning to loosen and sprawl about. His pants were in place, though, which could be seen on his legs, sticking out from under the small blanket he had found in one of the cupboards. His shoes and socks were off and placed beside the door beside Chris' boots.

Wesker shifted again and turned his back against the couch, allowing his arm to fall loose against the floor and his chest to be splayed. Chris glanced at it, the marks of battle barely visible under the pale skin, before moving his gaze up to Wesker's face. He looked peaceful which was odd for the captain considering how stressed he always seemed. The usual wrinkles in his forehead were gone and his frown lines were faded near his lips.

With one last glance at Wesker's torso, Chris continued into the kitchen where he retrieved a cold glass of water and began to nurse it at the dining room table. It was nearing nine in the morning and he wasn't quite sure how he managed to wake up before Wesker or how long the blond would take to awaken so he waited it out. Eventually he stood and made a piece of toast considering the thought of anything else made him nauseous.

Chris didn't think much. He didn't let his usual conflicting thoughts intrude his mind and, instead, just listened to Wesker's deep breathing for the hour.

When his phone began ringing and suddenly brought him back to reality, he raced to retrieve it. Wesker was awake, Chris saw the blond jolt as he raced past him to grab the phone.

"Hello?" Chris answered in mild frustration.

"You never came back. I wanted to make sure you got home okay," Jill's voice responded on the other end and Chris rubbed his eyes as he heard Wesker shift behind him.

"Yes, of course I did. Obviously."

"Well, good. How'd your talk with the captain go?"

"Jill, I can't really talk about that now."

"No, it's alright. You may talk about me," Wesker's voice chimed and a gasp erupted from the phone.

"He spent the night?!" Jill asked excitedly and Chris groaned.

"No, Jill—I mean, yeah he did. He's on my couch and I really don't think I owe you an explanation because I'm way too hung over to really care right now. Good bye, Jill."

"You're telling me about this later," was the last thing Chris heard before hanging up.

"I have more important things to do than to listen to her squeal about something she knows nothing about," Chris muttered before looking at Wesker.

The blond was sitting up, hands rubbing his face before his arms rested on his thighs. The two looked at each other for a moment before Wesker shrugged.

"Don't sacrifice her friendship. This may be your entire future hanging in the balance but Miss Valentine has a lot of hard times ahead of her from what you portrayed to me last night. Perhaps you should allow her to have her fun, hm?"

"Speaking of last night—"

"You didn't do anything embarrassing. I'm assuming you're far more accustom to drinking more than your current body is capable of handling," Wesker said simply.

"That's a pretty lucky guess."

"Well, you said yourself that after Piers died, you began drinking again. It didn't take very long—"

"What did I say?" Chris asked quickly.

"About your alcoholism?"

"About Piers, Wesker."

Chris' voice was raised, despite the protest of his head, and he spoke frantically. Obviously, Wesker didn't miss this and Chris was sure of it but he didn't care. He wanted Piers to stay out of this mess completely. At least for now.

"Not very much, I suppose. However he died, it was your fault and he wouldn't be happy with how things turned out. It was very little about him and much more about your own failures," Wesker answered before standing. "Excuse me," he said before leaving the room.

Chris huffed quietly to himself and moved back to the kitchen where he took his seat again. He supposed that wasn't bad and, if it was anything like what he usually said, then he was sure nothing serious was given away. He was musing his mild alcoholism when Wesker returned, hair newly glistening and somewhat back in place.

"You can make something for yourself, if you want. I'm sure you're hungry," Chris told the blond as Wesker retook his seat on the couch. From their positions, they could see each other considering the apartment wasn't very large but Wesker didn't immediately look at Chris. Instead, he focused his attention on his shirt, looking at it as if in thought before exchanging a glance with Chris.

"I suppose I should," he said before glancing to the kitchen. Chris watched Wesker quietly sigh, blink once then twice, and eventually make his way towards Chris. Wesker took a seat across from him. A smirk crossed his lips as Chris simply stared at the man. "I'm not very hungry, at the moment."

Chris gave a nod and averted his eyes to… anywhere besides Wesker, really. But once he felt the man's stare deepen, he looked up to find the man blatantly staring him down. With a long exhale, he groaned a long, "What?"

"Stop being so childish, Christopher. You know very well what I wish to discuss with you."

"I really don't, Wesker. Can we skip this until a time when I don't have a splitting headache?"

"I don't believe we can, Christopher. Your alcoholism cannot continue. Considering I have never witnessed such a careless display of alcohol intake, this must be a habit from your future. It must stop."

Chris let Wesker's words sink in for a long moment. Chris hated this. Everything about this made him want to pull out a gun and shoot the man in front of him. But he had to be careful. Wesker was essential to his plan and Chris couldn't let the man slip away from him. And it wasn't like the blond was wrong—Chris had a problem. He was well aware of that. Ever since Piers had died, Chris had returned to his drunken ways and he _did_ need to stop.

But he would not stop just because Albert Wesker told him to.

"That's my business, Wesker," Chris stated clearly.

"This Piers person certainly wouldn't approve of your—"

"Do not talk about Piers, Wesker."

Chris' voice was dark, serious, and demanding. Wesker tilted his head ever so slightly and gave a curt nod in response to the statement but continued, nonetheless.

"I simply wish to remind you what you explained to me last night."

"Wish granted. I'm reminded, Wesker. Now drop it."

Chris stood and took several steps into his kitchen. The brunet glanced around, ran a hand through his hair, and ended up leaning against his countertop. He could feel the blond's eyes on him still. He could feel the silence between them. He could feel the silence and precision of Wesker's mind berating his own buzzing mind.

"Very well. Can I request you keep your drinking to only the weekends, then?"

There was a pause and Chris's eyes focused on the counter in front of him, eyeing a small food splatter from some point in the past.

"Sure," Chris responded.

The brunet hated feeling like this. The only person that cared or understood him was Albert Wesker. The only person he could talk to about _anything_ going on was the monster of his future.

"I understand this is difficult, Christopher."

"Oh no—" Chris straightened and turned on his heel to look at the blond. Wesker was now standing. "You have no idea what I am going through. You don't understand anything. The things you have done-" Chris exhaled quickly and shook his head, "—Not only to me but the _world_. It's going to take some time before I'm used to waking up with you on my couch."

"Very well, perhaps I should leave."

Chris understood it wasn't a question or offer. He simply nodded. Wesker stood and began gathering his belongings. Chris didn't watch him very long and eventually began focusing on attempting to pick off the food spot with his thumbnail.

"I will contact you later tonight."

Chris looked up and found Wesker in the doorway. He nodded again.

* * *

><p>"Yeah but why didn't he just go home?"<p>

Chris sighed. He originally called Jill to combat his loneliness but after an hour of constant questioning, he was quickly regretting that decision. The two were comfortably sitting on his couch—the couch Wesker awoke upon. Chris internally flinched—the blond had been on Chris' mind since he left.

"He was drunk too, I think. I don't remember how much he drank. Hell, I don't even remember how much I drank. He probably didn't want to drive home."

"Or he could have taken a taxi," Jill added in thought.

"Exactly."

"I just don't understand why he wouldn't have just sent you home in a taxi and gone home in one by himself."

"Jill, I didn't invite you over for this. We didn't sleep together. We're dropping this."

Jill exhaled heavily and sat back before muttering a quiet, "Fine."

"Why are you pushing so hard for me to have a sex life?"

"Because I don't have one," Jill responded sharply.

"Then what's Barry's excuse?" Chris asked with a quiet laugh.

"Barry just gets really caught up in stuff like this. He does it to me too whenever he thinks I'm dating someone."

"Well, both of you need to stop it. You're being childish and making it difficult to even work with him."

"I know, I know. Sorry. We'll stop. Happy now?"

"Not until you put words into action," Chris chuckled as Jill rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"So how was it?" Jill asked quickly, sitting up to level herself with Chris who laid back.

"How was what, exactly?"

"Waking up with Captain Wesker on your couch. That must have been awkward, right? I bet he's a really strange houseguest."

"You've never had him at your place?"

"Are you kidding?" Jill scoffed again, "My dingy studio apartment? No thanks."

"I don't know—he wasn't that bad," Chris answered honestly, "He was polite and neat, of course, but it wasn't awkward. He's just..." Chris looked up at Jill and she nodded.

"He's pretty intense," she said and Chris nodded.

Chris' eyes ended up on the doorway as he thought back to how he first saw Wesker lying on his couch. The man seemed so peaceful and… human. Even through everything Chris had been through, it was easy to look at the blond and see humanity where the horrible monster used to be and that made everything just slightly easier.

But when it came down to it—the blond's eyes were really what made him seem human.

"He's not all that intimidating when he's asleep, though," Chris muttered.

"You watched him sleep?"

Chris' gaze fell back on Jill and he shook his head in disbelief.

"No—I don't even know what to say to that," he groaned. "When I woke up, he wasn't awake yet."

Jill hummed and nodded, "I guess I always saw him as someone who commands attention, even if he doesn't necessarily want it."

"You're definitely right. You can feel when he's watching us work. He's just got this presence—"

"—Oh I know! It's like you just know that you can't mess up and if you do something horrible is going to happen," Jill agreed and sat back again.

Chris didn't say anything because that's not what he felt. When he felt Wesker's gaze on him, it wasn't a heavy feeling because he was afraid of screwing up. If anything, he felt like he was being examined—Like everything was a test that Wesker knew Chris would succeed. It was as if everything Chris did had some unknown expectation to it in Wesker's eyes.

And Wesker walked away proud more often than not.

But Chris didn't say that. He didn't say just how different the blond made him feel. Instead, he just smiled and nodded as Jill continued.

* * *

><p>Chris had just exited the bathroom from a shower when he heard the phone ring. He flung the towel he was using to dry his neck over the shower rod and halfheartedly jogged into his living room. He picked up the corded phone and pressed the receiver to his ear.<p>

"Hello?"

"Christopher," Wesker's voice rang from the speaker.

If Chris was honest, he would say he was surprised at Wesker's voice on the opposite end of the phone. True, Wesker said he would contact Chris later but Chris hadn't actually believed him.

"Wesker," Chris responded promptly before turning to glance at the clock on the living room wall behind him.

7:33.

"I didn't expect you to call," Chris spoke honestly, head tilting down as he spoke into the receiver.

His free hand lifted to rub the back of his neck. His fingers grazed across the newly buzzed hair against his hairline and he sighed. He was expecting his usual slightly longer, unkept hair. Not his S.T.A.R.S hair.

"I rarely go against my word, Christopher. You'll learn this quickly," Wesker responded causing Chris to drop his hand and huff into the phone.

"I'm sure I will, Wesker. What do you want?"

"A bit rude, don't you think? I simply thought a meeting would be necessary. I feel we have quite a bit to talk about without the involvement of alcohol."

Chris could hear the man's sneer and despite the irritation, couldn't disagree. They needed a nice, long talk and alcohol hindered the possibility of that happening. They needed somewhere quiet.

"Come over and we'll talk here," Chris offered with a heavy sigh.

A firm knock pulled his attention and Chris exhaled heavily again. Without thinking, he hung up the phone and strode to the door before opening it. The blond standing on the other side looked at his phone with a small frown before flipping the clunky black cell phone in his hand closed.

Wesker was wearing a different set of clothing this time around. A dark blue button up covered his torso. Chris caught a glimpse of Wesker's black pants as he entered Chris' house and immediately began into the dining room. Chris closed the door and followed him, both without speaking.

Chris sat opposite Wesker, mimicking their morning placements before suddenly standing back up.

"Sorry," Chris muttered, "I should probably offer you tea or something." Chris made his way into the kitchen and began opening some of the cupboards at random. He hadn't spent enough time in his kitchen to remember where the tea was let alone whether he had it or not. "I wonder if I even have it…" he muttered to himself as he opened his pantry.

"I'd prefer water, actually."

"Good because I don't even think I own tea," Chris responded before closing the pantry door. "I'm so accustom to my life in Europe. I never went without tea," He muttered as he went to a separate cupboard.

Chris took a minute or so gathering a glass of water for Wesker and a soda for himself before setting himself back down in front of the blond. He opened his soda, ignored the judgmental gaze from Wesker, and took a drink before speaking.

"So what do you want to know?"

"When do the BOW attacks begin within the city?"

It didn't take long for Chris to vividly remember the first mission they had involving a half-eaten woman and her husband who was the culprit. Three weeks prior to the mansion incident.

"A month before you 'decide' to _investigate the matter further_," Chris mimicked Wesker and the blond chuckled.

"Very well so we should plan the mission for the beginning of May. I believe Spencer plans on releasing the virus throughout the mansion. Perhaps we can catch him before he does so?"

"I was thinking the same but I can't imagine Spencer just sits in the mansion by himself."

"You're correct. The scientists live there, as does Spencer currently. And he's well protected," Wesker explained.

"What is the possibility of us being able to activate the self-destruct if we create a distraction?" Chris asked carefully.

"I cannot imagine you want to kill the scientists as well."

"No but if we arrest them, we're able to get them out. That will be the distraction. While you and I activate the self-destruct. Jill and the others can put the scientists under arrest. Enrico will have to be there with backup and Irons cannot find out but this could work," Chris was speaking slowly as he worked through the plan out loud.

"And Spencer?" Wesker asked, an eyebrow raised.

That's when Chris realized the blond wasn't wearing sunglasses. Chris stared at his eyes for a moment. When that moment turned into a full thirty seconds, Wesker cleared his throat.

"I-I'm sure we'll know where he'll be closer to the mission date. He travels often, right?" Chris asked quickly, fingers dancing on the can of his soda.

"Yes, quite."

"Then there's a good chance we won't even need to deal with him. After Umbrella is exposed, he goes into hiding on Rockfort Island with Alexander, anyway. We know where he'll be."

Wesker leaned forward, head tilted ever so slightly to the right, "How do you possibly know any of this, Christopher?"

"Journals. His journals, mostly. In my timeline, once you kill Spencer, you kidnap Jill. Everyone thought she was dead but I never did. A cliff wouldn't kill Albert Wesker and the way you two fell—it didn't make sense. So I obsessed. I read every journal I could. I memorized everything, revisited the locations, looked for clues and possibilities—" Chris paused and lowered his eyes, "—You wonder why it's so hard. You stole everything from me, Wesker. I visited Jill Valentine's grave because of you."

"Because of me, however, there was no body in said grave, yes?" Wesker asked cautiously.

"Because of you I've lived a life full of death. I can't escape that. But sure, you keep grasping for some way to avoid feeling guilty."

Wesker didn't respond right away. He shifted in his seat carefully, eyes falling from Chris to, instead, look at the basket of overly ripened fruit that sat on the edge of the table. His fingers intertwined and his thumbs tapped at each other atop the table where his hands rested. Chris casually glanced at the small gestures before looking back up to meet Wesker's gaze—but Wesker was still focused on the basket.

"You seem to have this ability to forget I am a human being, Christopher. I am getting blamed for something I've yet to do nor do I ever see myself doing. I'm being described as a monster and you simply expect me to sit here and accept the fact?" Wesker's gaze met Chris' and the blond continued, "Do you not realize how much I'm risking sitting here with you now? I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and I'd like to see some in return. I understand we have a complicated future but I am attempting to avoid that."

Chris let Wesker's words sink in for a moment. He allowed the guilt, the memories, and the hard truth to fall over him and he slowly shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, young, and hesitant—completely unlike his older, more demanding, confident voice that he was so used to.

"It's my second day trying to do this, Wesker. Give me a break," Chris took a slow breath before continuing, "I appreciate the risk you're taking. But I'm taking a risk too. My entire future depends on this plan not falling apart."

"As does mine."

"But it's different for me, Wesker. I've lived it. I've watch my friends, people who were depending on me—I've watched them die. I've watched you single-handedly take everything you could possibly take from me. It's going to take ridiculous amounts of effort and time—"

"We don't have time, Christopher. If you cannot manage to let this go, I will have to move on."

"You can't do this without me, Wesker," Chris reminded quickly.

"And you cannot continue without me," Wesker countered.

"I could put a gun to your head right now and end it without going through the effort, Wesker. Don't make me regret the decision to give you a chance."

"You have yet to give me that chance, Christopher. Keeping me alive for your own use is not a chance."

Chris was quiet. His mind was racing. He could hear his heartbeat in his ear. Wesker wasn't smirking as he usually did when he was right. He looked so solemn as if this was the end and Chris just didn't see it yet. Perhaps it was. Perhaps Chris just couldn't see where this was heading because he was so focused on always examining what Wesker was doing.

"I trusted you with my life once. To you, it was less than a month ago. To me?" Chris scoffed and a harsh chuckle escaped him, "It's been so long."

Chris took another pause. He was expecting Wesker to say something—anything—but the blond remained silent and still.

So Chris continued.

"If you do anything suspicious, I will kill you. I have no forgiveness and will give no second thought to your death. I've done it before and will do it again because you are wrong, Wesker. I can easily do this without you. I know where the mansion is. An anonymous tip-off could have every precinct in a fifty mile radius looking at it, not just Raccoon City. I know Irons would attempt to stop it, somehow, and I know he would succeed. Do you understand, Wesker?"

"I suppose so."

"As long as you understand that, I'll give more effort to seeing you as a human being rather than... something else," Chris promised.

"Very well, I suppose that's all I can hope for."

"For now, it is. I'm willing to share information, that alone should tell you something," Chris reasoned.

Wesker simply nodded.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: You guys have waited for six months and I'm still getting messages and reviews telling me to keep going! I'm sorry about the wait, really! My life has just been… yeesh. Anyway! I'm back!**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

**Elegance Is Very Dangerous**

_**-Edoardo Ponti**_

Blue eyes fluttered closed, if only for a moment, to enjoy the cool breeze from the night air ghosting over his warm skin. He sighed deeply, exhaling slowly as he slipped lower in the porch chair he had settled in once Wesker suggested they move their conversation to the porch. He cradled a cup of tea against his chest and rested his head on the back of the chair, listening to the quiet silence of the night. The porch light was their only source of light besides the dull moonlight from above but it was enough for Wesker to watch Chris.

The blond held his own cup of tea against his thigh though his was far more gone than Chris'. He sat facing the brunet in a chair of his own and his legs were crossed at the knee, allowing his right leg to bounce freely.

Wesker cleared his throat and Chris glanced at him.

"We should probably continue," Wesker suggested quietly. Chris nodded and shifted in his seat.

"What was I saying last?" Chris asked quietly, voice hoarse as cold air hit his warm throat.

"The surviving members of the team after the mansion incident and how the others died."

"Right, right," Chris muttered under his breath.

He had started talking about the mansion incident but once he began to recall the overpowering smell of rotting flesh, the terror he felt, the horrors he witnessed—he couldn't breathe. He doesn't remember much after that, honestly. Apparently, Wesker found tea in his kitchen because that's what he currently held just under his chin.

"Jill survived, _mostly_-"

"I expect an explanation," Wesker stated, cutting off Chris and causing the brunet to sigh.

"I left immediately after the mansion incident but Jill stayed behind. She contracted the T-Virus once Raccoon City got taken over. She survived but I can't help feeling I could have prevented it."

"She _survived_?"

Chris glanced at the blond to find a twisted, confused face looking back at him. Chris chuckled impassively.

"There was an antivirus. Why do you think the black market wanted it so badly? Nothing can be done with a virus by itself but a virus with an antivirus is priceless."

Wesker remained quiet and Chris exchanged glances with the blond. A long break of silence passed before Chris finally voiced his confusion. He sunk into the seat again and raised the cup to his lips, allowing the warm steam to wash over his face.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked, inhaling the warm air before drinking more of the tea.

"…The virus was never meant to land in anyone else's hands. Precautions have been taken."

"Those precautions fail," Chris responded coldly. "How did you expect all of Umbrella's plans to continue even after their fall?"

"Spencer is rather convinced," Wesker stated, thoughtfully.

"Anyway," Chris said loudly, pulling Wesker's attention once again, "Barry survived despite your many attempts of kidnapping and threatening him. He almost killed Jill because of it."

"We've established my past self in your timeline has made some questionable choices. Can we continue?"

Chris gave a sharp exhale before continuing, "Another member survives, Rebecca Chambers, but she hasn't been hired yet."

"That's it?"

Chris gave a single nod.

"You don't even survive—not really. You turn into a power hungry monster after your precious Tyrant kills you."

The chilled red tint to Wesker's face suddenly vanished as he paled. When Wesker didn't say anything in response to the Tyrant comment, Chris twisted his neck towards him. The blond had his head in his hands, bony elbows digging into his upper thighs. Chris stayed silent, eyes wandering around the porch as he waited for Wesker to finish his thinking. Chris leaned forward and set his cup of tea on the fence surrounding the porch and twisted in his seat to find Wesker facing him once again.

"I'm beginning to realize I should take you far more seriously than I am," the blond said carefully.

Chris didn't know how to respond to that. He couldn't exactly blame the man for not taking him seriously before considering Chris' claim was a bit ridiculous—but talking about the Tyrant project just made it _real_ for Wesker. Chris could practically see Wesker considering his next move. The way his eyes downturned to the cement before blinking back up to Chris confirmed it for the brunet—Wesker was lost.

"Did you think I was just good at guessing?" Chris scoffed before shaking his head, "I know how it sounds but I thought I proved myself with the information I've been giving you."

"You proved you've done your _research_, Christopher," Wesker said coldly, "I simply assumed—" the blond trailed off, shaking his head.

"And suddenly knowing about the Tyrant changed your opinion?"

"_Yes_," Wesker hissed.

Until this point, Wesker had been nothing but his STARS persona—calm, cool, collected. Seeing Wesker so thrown and lost really put Chris through his own thought cycles. Was their deal still on? Was Wesker lying the whole time? Did Wesker finally understand where Chris was coming from?

"I don't understand," Chris sighed, settling back into his chair.

"Of course you don't."

"Why is the Tyrant such a sensitive topic?"

"I had hoped for so much more than… _this_," Wesker muttered. The silent hiss behind his voice was enough for Chris to hear the bitterness through each word.

The brunet understood, to an extent. The Tyrant was everything to Wesker so for the blond to find out the project itself was the reason behind his death would, assumedly, be devastating. Wesker's mouth twitch as his jaw tensed and his lips shrunk into themselves. His neck was tense, veins pressing against the pale skin barely visible in the moonlight. Chris' eyes gazed the skin there before pulling his attention from Wesker.

"We should continue our conversation," Wesker said finally.

"We keep getting sidetracked. It's kinda hard to stay on topic when there's so much to tell," Chris stated. When Wesker didn't respond immediately, the brunet rubbed his palms roughly against his eyes attempting to escape the ever creeping exhaust he was beginning to feel.

"You're correct, Christopher. Perhaps we should allow the remainder of the information to come when needed. Learning the casualties of my actions, for now, is enough."

"You don't seem too bothered by it," Chris scoffed as he stood. Chris gripped the empty mug sitting on the fence by the rim and turned to Wesker expectantly.

"I have no plan to repeat the timeline you have experienced, Christopher."

"I didn't say that," Chris defended quickly. Wesker stood.

"The statement was implied. I am simply not allowing myself to worry over something I am working to change. The concept shouldn't be too difficult to grasp."

The blond attempted to exchange a glance with Chris but Chris immediately rolled his eyes and turned towards his door. He slipped it open and walked to the kitchen, mug still in hand. He had just set the cup in the sink when he heard his front door close. He looked up to see Wesker standing in the center of his living room, looking ever so slightly out of place.

"Well," Chris began, "sit down."

Wesker looked at the couch to his right before looking back at Chris. He straightened and inhaled through his nose, lips tight against each other as he mused over the thought. Chris stood in the kitchen for a moment, watching the blond before rolling his eyes and standing upright from the counter.

"Perhaps I should take my leave," Wesker suggested as Chris entered into the living room.

Chris scoffed and retaliated with a somewhat angry, "You're the one that thought we should keep the conversation going."

"Yes, I did. However, I'm beginning to realize this conversation isn't something we should force. It should come naturally. This was, after all, your life," Wesker said slowly, easing the annoyance from Chris.

"I don't necessarily think I'm ready to talk to you like a _friend_ just yet," Chris commented quietly.

The two were several feet apart and there wasn't much light reflecting into the living room from the kitchen. Chris brushed past Wesker as he strode across the room to flick on the lamp in the far corner of the room. With a click, the room was lit and Chris took a seat on the couch beside the lamp. Wesker turned and glanced down at the brunet.

"Then what exactly are you doing?"

"I'm getting over it," Chris answered coldly. When Wesker response consisted of him crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly, Chris began to explain, "The only way I'll be able to get through this alive is with you helping me. As much as I don't want to admit that, it's the truth. Now, if you really are the psychopath that I thought you were, I have a backup. My death _will_ mean something and I can go knowing things will be taken care of without me."

Wesker shifted his weight to the opposite foot and his gaze floated around the newly lit room. The words sank in and Chris could practically see the cogs in Wesker's head turning as he considered his next move. Finally, Wesker looked back towards Chris and spoke.

"So what exactly are you expecting me to do?"

"I expect you to sit down and talk to me," Chris stated simply.

"Very well," Wesker answered.

The blond allowed his arms to gracefully fall to his sides. He stepped forward, turned on his heel, and lowered himself a short distance from Chris. The brunet watched him for a moment but once Wesker was sitting, Chris shifted. He kicked off his shoes, leaned back against the cold pleather, and raised his feet onto the coffee table.

"Absolutely barbaric," Wesker muttered.

Chris glanced at him, prepared to make a snarky response but the playful smirk on the blonde's lips stopped him. Wesker's lips parted and a quiet chuckle escaped them before he closed them once more and also leaned back.

"Are you hungry or thirsty?" Chris asked casually though he was feeling more than a little awkward. He shifted in his seat, dropping his feet to the floor and turning his body slightly to face Wesker.

"Not currently."

Chris hummed in response.

Neither spoke for a long period of time. After a number of minutes, Chris muttered something along the lines of;

"D'you want to watch television?"

Wesker just shook his head.

Chris refused to be the first to start a conversation. Sitting here beside the blond was difficult enough for Chris. The thought of pushing himself to go out of his way to learn more about Wesker was something he simply would not do because Chris shouldn't _have_ to be the one to start anything. He's the victim in all of this, after all. Why should he have to do anything besides answer questions?

That was when Chris realized his stubborn side was a bit childish and he decided to alter his thinking.

He wouldn't be able to start a fluid conversation while he felt as awkward as he felt.

Luckily, he didn't have to and after a few minutes, Wesker decided to give it an attempt.

"You lived in Europe?"

The question just seemed so out of place as it broke the silence.

"What?" Chris asked.

"You mentioned Europe earlier," Wesker answered.

"Oh, right. Yeah, in the future I live in Europe. I'm part of a European anti-bioterrorism group with Jill," Chris said quietly. "I can't say that I miss it."

"Why's that?"

"I devoted myself to this cause long before I really knew what it would do to me." Wesker gave a confused look and Chris rolled his eyes and sighed before continuing, "I'm not saying I didn't know it would take. I knew it would be a lot of hard work filled with hurt and pain. I knew that I'd see things that nobody should have to see… but I figured if I wasn't going to do it, nobody else would. I questioned whether it was worth the pain and misery every day and every day I had a different answer."

When it was still silent after a moment, Chris glanced towards Wesker to find the blond staring intently at him.

"What?" he asked under his breath—barely loud enough for the other to hear, he was sure.

"Did you portray your feelings to Jill?" the blond questioned.

Chris chuckled dryly and shook his head, "yeah," he responded bitterly. "Don't get me wrong, she was a great friend but…" Chris paused and dropped his head as his sardonic smile fell slowly, "… she was always so devoted to the cause. The thought of leaving it behind had never occurred to her. Even after, well, everything."

"That type of life is not for everyone. Early retirement could have easily removed you from such a toxic situation."

"And turn my back on the world?" Chris shook his head. "I couldn't do that. Not when Jill, Claire, and everyone else I cared about kept fighting. I had to be by their side for them and me."

"Fair enough, I suppose. However, it isn't such a questionable thing to not want that type of life after so many years." Wesker explained. "I could honestly say I somewhat understand your predicament—well, what it was, anyway. You're in quite a different situation now."

"I guess so."

"Perhaps it will be different this time around. Everything is up to you," Wesker mused, eyes gliding from Chris to gaze around the room in thought.

"No pressure," Chris retorted.

"You've been through all of this already."

"Oh no," Chris scoffed harshly. "I am definitely not used to this whole… thing."

"You are referring to our agreement, I assume?" Wesker asked as he shifted in his spot.

"Why do you assume I'm talking about that? I was sent back in _time_ and you think I'm talking about _us_?"

"Well, yes. Am I correct?"

Chris thought about it for a moment.

Wesker wasn't wrong.

"I guess so," Chris said slowly.

"I see."

Silence once again.

Chris wanted to keep the silence at first. He enjoyed the quiet ticking of the clock over his television and the shadows the light in the corner of the living room cast on the wall beside him were interesting at first. However, as the seconds ticked on he began to slowly miss the comfortable feeling conversation brought to them.

"So I'm guessing you don't want to talk about your life in Umbrella?" he asked hesitantly.

"Not particularly."

"Well, what about outside work?"

"Are you asking about my personal life, Christopher?" Wesker asked with a smirk.

Chris groaned.

"Nevermind."

"I'll answer any questions you may want to ask."

"I don't want to ask anything," Chris insisted.

"Very well."

"Fine."

Another pause and Chris was appreciating the silence once again.

Chris huffed as the silence lingered.

"Perhaps I will take a glass of wine," Wesker suggested suddenly.

"I thought we agreed to keep alcohol out of this?"

"Yes, well, I'm beginning to reconsider."

Chris didn't respond. He simply stood and walked to the kitchen. The brunet could feel Wesker's eyes on him as he searched through the cupboards he hadn't seen in years. Finally, a small set of wine glasses were on the top shelf of his far left cupboard. He retrieved the wine from the fridge, reading the label of the bottle he didn't remember buying.

"I don't think this stuff is all that great."

Wesker hummed in response.

Chris took this as an agreement and poured the glass. He took the glass and the bottle into the living room, setting both on the table in front of Wesker.

"I am rather surprised…" Wesker muttered, leaning forward to tenderly pick up the glass.

"Why is that?" Chris asked with a sigh, sitting back in his seat.

"You didn't retrieve a glass for yourself. I'm assuming you have decided to take what I said into consideration?"

"About me being an alcoholic?" Chris gave a dry laugh. "Something like that, Wesker."

Wesker hummed and tilted the glass against his pale lips. Chris watched them part through the glass and the strain of Wesker's throat as he swallowed. Wesker had a sort of elegance and refinement that Chris had never seen before. The brunet rarely was able to see this side of the blond in his STARS days due to his attachment with Jill and Barry being his primary sources of entertainment.

Yet here the two of them sat, side by side.

The irony was laughable but Chris found it anything but funny.

"Continue staring and I will give you a reason to look, Christopher," Wesker said, pulling Chris from his thoughts.

Chris opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he saw the smirk on Wesker's lips.

"Sorry. Must've gotten lost in thought," Chris muttered before sitting back.

"What were you thinking about, if I may ask?"

Chris almost said no.

But after a pause, he quickly reconsidered.

And then he spoke;

"You and I have never really…" Chris paused, "… hung out, I guess?"

Chris waited for a response but Wesker remained silent.

"I dunno. It's difficult looking at you so close up and seeing you act normal. It's weird that you have a personal life and friends and a life that isn't Umbrella. It's weird that you aren't openly trying to kill me right now," Chris said. "It's nice, though," he added.

"I'm glad. Perhaps there's a chance for us yet, hm?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Wesker flashed one of his reassuring STARS smiles before placing the wine glass to his lips.

Chris smiled back.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Oh boy! So, my mom just got out of the hospital after breaking two legs, a finger, and spraining a bunch of things. Besides that, my boyfriend has moved in so now writing for me has become more frequent and work has been easy and slow. But here you guys go! Seriously, I appreciate all of your encouraging comments and messages. Every single one makes me smile!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

**A Company Is Only As Good As The People It Keeps**

_**Unknown**_

Chris would be lying if he said he was used to spending time with Wesker but the night did not end terribly. The two conversed casually while Wesker polished off the glass of wine. After his second glass, he glanced to the time and realized he had to leave.

Once the blond was gone, Chris cleaned up the glasses and made his way into his room. He situationed himself in his computer chair and shook the ball mouse to wake up his clunky desktop computer—another aspect of this old life he was far from accustomed to.

He spent the remainder of the night recapping his experienced with Wesker into a document—which he was now using as a kind of diary—then began doing more Umbrella research.

_He couldn't move. He was lying still with his eyes open, a blinding light causing him to groan yet he could not open his mouth to ask where he was or to demand the light be dimmed. He was overwhelmingly hot. His sweat drenched pants clung to his legs and he could feel his leg hair sticking to his skin. His back was bare and cold, causing periodic violent chills to glide through him. The ceiling was lined with rows of bright fluorescent lights._

_He was disoriented and his head was spinning. _

_He groaned again as he felt nauseous._

_Suddenly fingertips touched his chin and his face was tilted to the left._

_The spots in his eyes were blinding him from seeing the person. The person hummed and moved out of sight, allowing Chris' head to fall back to its original position with no support._

_Chris heard shuffling and the sound of a machine whirring to life though he was far more focused on attempting to gather his thoughts and stop the nauseous feeling in his stomach._

_Chris suddenly felt very tired and he was quickly losing feeling in his lower body. The tingling started in his toes before reaching his spine—and he was just so tired. He wanted to care about where he was, who the unknown person was, and why he was here but he was losing consciousness quick. He realized something wasn't right and fought to stay awake. He shook his head, blinking rapidly but the spots continued to blind him._

_And then he was gone._

Once his eyes were open once again, he realized it was just a dream. He had fallen asleep at his desk and his neck was cramped from the uncomfortable position he awoke in. Chris' left hand rubbed his stiff neck while his right jiggled the mouse to change his desktop screensaver back to Internet Explorer's white background and a news article about recent 'odd' sightings in the Arklay Mountains. Large dark shadows of 'unknown animals' had been seen by hunters in the woods and the police were called in to check it out—though there was no follow-up information.

Chris bookmarked the page and shut off his computer before going about his day. His Sunday was mostly consisting of shopping and re-establishing his surroundings in Raccoon City.

Raccoon City was the same as he remembered it. The streets were busy with people going about their days. Chris was striving not to linger on the citizens he watched while driving through downtown Raccoon. His gaze jumped from person to person and he felt that lingering guilt once more.

Even as he finished his grocery shopping, he couldn't shake the guilt plaguing him. Chris felt watched as he exited the store. Quickly, he returned to his car only to sit in the driver's seat with his head resting on the headrest. Dark thoughts crossed his mind like a raging river. He could never truly focus on one thought because when he tried, another would come along just as quickly.

And then he thought of Piers again. His death was just so fresh—the sacrifice he made… Chris couldn't let it go. He didn't want Umbrella being aware of Piers' existence so using the police database was out of the question.

It was better, and safer, for everyone if Chris didn't go looking for him.

He had to keep reminding himself of that.

And what's when Chris saw Wesker was up to the bank across the parking lot. Chris watched the blond pull out a key, unlock the door, and step inside.

Chris thought for a minute as his previous musings fell from his attention. A simple glance at the bank sign told Chris why Albert Wesker would be entering a bank on a Sunday: "Brought to you by Umbrella" could be seen in small writing.

Figures.

Before Chris could even consider following Wesker, the brunet had long left his car and was quickly approaching the door. Chris wanted to be casual about entering a closed bank on a Sunday in civilian clothing because the last thing he wanted was to have to flash his STARS badge.

A simple tug on the double doors told Chris Wesker had locked the doors behind him. Chris dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his travel lockpicking kit. While this was far from his specialty, Jill had taught him enough over the years. Chris found very little trouble unlocking the door.

Quickly and carefully, he slipped the picks back into their case and into his pocket before stepping inside the dark open room. The windows were heavily tinted and had shades pulled down to the floor. There was a sitting area with several simple couches sitting across from each other atop a carpet beside a sign-in area. The air was chilled and the sounds of an air conditioner and a male talking could be heard loudly. Chris maneuvered around desks that were laid out to the left side of the large open room before stepping up to an ajar door with a plaque that read "Meeting Room 1."

Kneeling down, he peeked through the opening. Wesker was standing on the far side of the room wearing a black suit. He was simply standing in front of a chalkboard. Chris could hear chattering coming from the table in the center of the room where ten men in suits were sitting facing away from the door. Some had their legs crossed, others had stacks of paper in front of them, but all ten were speaking angrily towards Wesker and among themselves.

Chris turned his attention back to Wesker to find the blond staring directly back at him.

They locked eyes.

Wesker smirked and gave a subtle nod.

"I understand your anger," Wesker said, obviously addressing the room. The men quieted as he continued—"however, I assure you sends his deepest apologies and he would not send someone who is not capable of keeping you all updated on the company's progress this month."

One of the men spoke up, his dark brown hair and glasses shining under the lights hanging above him—"We are not questioning your ability to convey information, . Ozwell E. Spencer has not attended a single one of these meetings and if he isn't serious about our contributions or alliances with Umbrella, how can we can we continue associating ourselves with his company?"

" is a very busy man," came a voice out of sight.

"And we aren't? We are all single shareholders of corporations just as large as Umbrella, Dr. Birkin. And yet we attend these meetings monthly. Dr. Marcus was kind enough to show up once or twice but we have yet to see Spencer!"

"Dr. Birkin, if you would leave this to me?" Wesker asked. "I understand your frustrations, however, he is away on a trip, currently, and there is really nothing we can do as of now. Instead of expressing your frustrations during a time where we could be talking business, why not form a collective email and send it later tonight where I can personally assure a response?"

It was quiet for a moment.

"Very well," Wesker said. "Now, our product sales are up as we have expanded into different countries. Our research into regeneration drugs have so far been successful. We hope to begin testing with cancer patients within the next two years. Dr. Birkin is scheduled to speak at the science center in Seattle with his wife about how their modifications will not only help cancer patients but the potential of extending human life as well. Umbrella is redefining health and science as we speak. Umbrella is the future and you are all a part of it."

Chris pulled from the ajar door to quickly look around him. The still darkness of the closed bank made him paranoid though he was unsure why. He assumed his paranoia came from being in a dark building with Wesker, Birkin, and a handful of stock holders from Umbrella—It was enough to make anyone nervous.

Chris turned his attention back to the meeting room.

"If there are no questions, I will see you all next month. The location will be emailed to you, as usual. Now, I will allow Dr. Birkin to take over the discussion as I have important business to take care of."

Chris stood up and quickly fled back to the front door of the bank. He stepped outside and waited.

Soon after, Wesker was opening the door. He paused, smirked at Chris, then stepped through the doorway to allow the door to close behind him. He turned away from Chris to lock the door.

"Plans today Christopher?"

"No…"Chris responded carefully.

"Then I suppose you can join me," Wesker said simply.

"Join you?"

"I have several errands to run for Umbrella. I assumed you would prefer to accompany me?" Wesker asked as he stepped up to the driver's seat of his car.

Chris' mind momentarily wandered to the food sitting in the backseat of his own vehicle before he decided he needed to follow Wesker. If he was going to be dependent on Wesker at all, he would have to be able to trust him somehow and what better way than to see his 'errands' for Umbrella?

Chris nodded, rounded the opposite side and opened the car door. He and Wesker slid inside and shut the doors. Chris buckled his seatbelt slowly as he watched Wesker set the briefcase into the backseat.

"What's in there?" Chris beckoned to the briefcase once Wesker turned back around.

"Paperwork and emails, mostly."

Chris hummed a response, content with that answer, and Wesker started the car.

"I'm rather surprised you chose to come," the blond mused as he pulled the car from the parking lot.

Chris hummed another response and Wesker glanced at him.

Chris' gaze was lost somewhere on the outside world. The countless people around him—the children holding their parents' hand as they walked down the street or the homeless man on the corner—would die. Very few people would get out alive. His mind went in circles around this idea as all of the horrible sights he had seen reappeared before him once more.

Flashes of body strewn all over streets, abandoned cars, the walking dead— the things that Jill had described were almost impossible to imagine.

"Something wrong?" Wesker asked casually, eyes returning to the road.

"No," Chris lied.

"I'm not going to ask again."

"Then I won't have to answer again," Chris muttered the response.

"Rather cold, hm?"

Chris sighed.

"I'm just… thinking."

"About?"

Chris grew quiet as they approached a stop light and stopped behind a black van. Wesker used the pause to look at him expectantly and the two exchanged a glance as Chris eyed him back. Chris could see the blonde's eyebrows raise behind the dark sunglasses covering his eyes and understood Wesker was genuinely curious.

"When everything happened in Raccoon… Here… " Chris twisted his neck to look at anything but Wesker. His eyes settled on one of the passerby shops as light turned green.

"Yes?" Wesker pushed.

"I was gone," Chris admitted quietly. "I was off chasing some lead making every attempt I could to stop Umbrella when I should have been here with Claire and Jill saving people."

"I see," Wesker said as he turned down a street leading towards the east side of town.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chris asked, shortly.

"You're blaming yourself?" Wesker asked.

"Of course. My job working for STARS was to rescue people and I… abandoned them to chase something I knew would fall through. It was so obvious!" Chris huffed and continued. "All of the signs were there. Umbrella was trying to separate us and it worked. I thought Jill could handle it but I should have been there. She shouldn't have been alone."

"Who would have gone had you not left?" Wesker asked casually.

Chris had just noticed the car was stopped.

"Jill? Barry? I don't know. Maybe no one?"

"And had nobody gone, you would be regretting it," Wesker stated matter-of-factly.

Chris scoffed.

"That's a pretty big assumption."

"I am not assuming. I don't need to. You will feel guilty no matter what had happened during your timeline. Need an example? Say you stayed, Christopher, and Jill left. Perhaps something would have happened to her or perhaps you simply couldn't believe her findings once she returned."

"You're really trying to say that no matter what I wouldn't be happy?" Chris asked darkly.

"Of course. That is simply how guilt works. The situation was out of your hands, Christopher. The destruction of Raccoon City was not your fault nor will it be again if the situation pans out the same."

"It can't…" Chris muttered almost absentmindedly.

"Perhaps you should consider what will happen if Raccoon City comes to the same fate. Prepare yourself for the possibilities and understand that if it does, you will not be at fault," Wesker stated sternly.

"Yes I will!" Chris growled.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Even with direct knowledge of when and how it will happen, there is no guarantee, Christopher. You can only do so much. The forces you are fighting against are unpredictable, just as your future is," Wesker explained carefully. His lips formed the words but Chris barely listened.

He couldn't handle the possibility of failing again.

"Why does this matter to you?"

"It doesn't, I suppose. However, it does pain me to see you like this."

Chris blinked at him and the brunette's mind blanked for a moment.

"Like what?" Chris asked suddenly.

"Acting as if you are alone."

"And that pains you?" Chris asked.

"Of course."

Silence hung between them but the two never took their eyes off of each other. Chris' face was contorted into a confused sort of expression but Wesker, as per usual, remained calm and unmoved. No expression was shown on the blonde's face causing the man's statement to hit Chris even harder than it should have.

"But why?"

"You are certainly filled with questions today, hm?" Wesker chuckled under his breath and instead of answering, simply unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his car door. "Ready?"

Chris sighed.

"Where are we?"

"I have been sent to check on one of Umbrella's many organizations."

"Right. Any research facility hidden beneath this place?" Chris asked, looking through the windshield window to see a small building. Cars around them were parked and the place, whatever it was, seemed busy.

"Of course."

"Figures," Chris muttered as he followed Wesker out of the car.

The blond took the briefcase from the backseat and guided Chris through the automatic front door. The building turned out to be a pharmacy and Wesker was greeted almost immediately by the manager who quickly approached him.

The manager wore a red and white shirt, shockingly enough, with an Umbrella Corporation logo on the left breast. His spiked black hair and small figure combined with his nervous smile almost made Chris feel sorry for him because he was sure he knew what was coming.

"Mr. Wesker, we've been expecting you." The man didn't even bother looking at Chris who was on Wesker's heel.

"I would imagine considering information from your research has not been updated in five days. You know the rules, Karr."

"Could we possibly take this downstairs?" the man asked carefully, finally eyeing Chris.

"Yes, I insist."

'Karr' nodded, turned, and led the two down a long isle of snacks before arriving at the pharmacy in the back. A small line had formed and several people in lab coats were assisting them. Chris eyed the Umbrella logos each had embedded into their white coats.

Chris followed behind Wesker and was ignored as they were guided into the back and into an elevator. While the three of them silently made their way through the facility, he realized how aware each employee must be aware of the research happening just below them and he grew nauseous. There was a possibility these people didn't know a thing about Umbrella's truest intentions—or so he thought. But as he went farther into the facility, he realized the T-Virus was the main focus of experiments.

"Any progress?" Wesker asked suddenly as they walked down a long well lit hallway. The walls were white and fluorescent lights above them were bright enough to give Chris a headache.

"Of course," Karr responded. "The reports are beginning to show the difference of effects in each individual living thing. Personally, I'm curious how a human would react—"

"And why haven't you sent the reports to Mr. Spencer?"

The three had just entered an office—Chris assumed it was Karr's—and the second the door closed, Wesker immediately cut him off. A lonely desk, computer, and three chairs sat in the bare room. The carpet was flat and felt old under Chris' boots. The walls were far from as white as the hallway and, if anything, were borderline yellow.

"Should we really talk in front of—" the stranger motioned at Chris.

"He's with me. You don't need to bother with him. Now, explain quickly or your funding quickly gets cut and the police become involved."

"I didn't know the reports weren't sending until this morning," he sighed and took a seat behind the desk. Neither Wesker nor Chris sat. "They're currently in the process of being recorded and sent to Spencer as usual. I fired the scientist responsible for the delay. Is there anything else I can really do?"

"Take it upon yourself to transfer the reports, Karr. This is your third violation and your last chance. Once more and you get no warning."

"What gives you the right to march into my facility and threaten me? We've made progress—"

"As have everyone else. You are not special and very, very replaceable. I'd suggest working late tonight, Karr."

The stranger didn't respond and Wesker turned and left. Chris followed him out in silence and the two returned to the parking lot. Settling into the car, Chris wanted to ask questions and felt he should have been more prepared for the situation before going in but wasn't sure where to start.

"I apologize for throwing you in the middle of that," Wesker stated abruptly.

"It's fine," Chris answered automatically. "So who was that, exactly?"

"Richard Karr. He's leading research involved with transforming the T-Virus into a controllable substance that can be marketed as a cell growing agent. I've been interfering his requests to experiment on human test subjects for months and, as revenge, he is ceasing report updates. It's all very childish."

"I can see that," Chris muttered. "So you're trying to avoid human experimentation?"

"I am."

Chris hummed a response.

"You seem surprised," Wesker commented.

"After all I've been through, it's hard not to be."

"Perhaps, eventually, you'll learn to trust me."

"Trust has nothing to do with it," Chris responded carefully. "I think I can saw I honestly trust you right now. It's the questioning of everything else. Your future, my past, and everything in between? How did you end up the evil bastard I saw you to be if you are _actually_ attempting to help my cause? I trust that you won't kill me, I mean you've had enough chances—but whether you're telling the truth is a whole different issue."

"Sounds rather complex."

"You have no idea."

"You seem exhausted."

"I am," Chris sighed. "I'm tired of looking at your every move, questioning whether you have a gun to my head or if you're manipulating me. I'm tired of going out of my way to make sure I have backup plan after backup plan in case things fail."

"That's the goal of our little trip, Christopher. You saw the business I handled and I explained everything. I would be happy to show you more, if you're interested. If you'd rather return home and contemplate whether I'm planning to kill you, however, you may also do that."

"I'll come with you," Chris said quickly.

"Eager?"

"You have no idea."


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: So I'm writing this as my mother recovers from her heart surgery. She had a double bypass plus a valve replacement and I can't go see her because I'm sick. I feel pretty awful about that but there's very little I can do, honestly. So here I am.

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><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

**The Clearest Actions Come From Truth Not Obligation**

**_Gerard Way_**

The howling wind at Chris' window became a pleasant white noise, as well as a reminder of the impending storm. Rain tapped occasionally at the glass and Chris found himself staring out of the window rather than writing about his day with Wesker as he had originally planned. He simply could not stop his daze. The prospect of the previous few days had just caught up with him, he supposed. The clunky desktop in front of him had two entries showing and he seemed to be stuck at his current entry.

'_Albert_ _Wesker took me to several pharmacies around Raccoon City. I will name them in the folder containing Umbrella's known associates_,' was all he had typed.

Chris had drifted off as he stared at the sentence and thought of the meeting Chris had witnessed at the bank. Wesker seemed to have been expecting Chris earlier that day which was simply odd to the brunet. Then, Chris thought about Wesker's understanding and how the possibility that a friendship with Wesker seemed… possible. Chris was put into such an awkward situation that he found himself leaning on Wesker as not only a confidant but a friend.

He missed Jill, though. She understood him best, after all; she lost people too and she never really left his side.

Sighing, Chris saved the document and shut down the computer. Just as he turned to leave his desk, the sudden ringing of the house phone caught him off guard. He glanced to the time before making his way to the ringing phone in the living room.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Chris!" Claire's happy voice came from the earpiece. "I have news!"

"Oh?" Chris wanted to apologize for how he had reacted before. He truly had not been fair when last they spoke but Chris wasn't even given the chance.

"I'll be coming down there this weekend. I thought it was a little unfair to spend the _entire_ Spring Break away so I figured a few days together wouldn't kill us. Whatdya say?" she sounded so excited. Chris could almost see the smile on her face.

"If this is about how I acted, I'm sorry—" Chris began suddenly. "I understand you have your own life and I don't want to take that away from you by being a stubborn old guy about this."

"This isn't about that—well, it kinda is…" Claire sighed into the phone and Chris could hear the smile falter. "I miss you and I've been stressed at school… I just think I could use some sibling time. Just a few days."

"Alright, Claire. If you really want to then I'd be glad to have you."

"How does Friday night sound? My plane probably won't land until after you get off work."

"That's fine," Chris responded.

By the time Chris hung up the phone, his head was reeling. Maybe Claire would understand. Maybe, Chris could lean on someone that wasn't Wesker. Telling his sister over the phone wasn't an option but with proof and her _being_ here? Just maybe…

Chris lay in bed that night, restless. A beer was on his nightstand, open and partially untouched. The anxiety that sat in the pit of his stomach hadn't left after the first five beers so he was sure the sixth wouldn't help; that didn't stop him from reaching over and taking a drink.

And then he remembered Piers.

The fresh death clung to him and his anxiety was replaced by nausea. Chris wished Jill was there to comfort him or take the bottle from his hand or even smack him to knock some sense into him.

That's how Chris found himself in the living room with the phone receiver pressed to his ear. The dead tone sat against his ear until he hit the three on his saved numbers list. It dialed.

"Hello?" Wesker's deep voice answered.

Chris opened his mouth but a quiet noise escaped in place of words. What would he say? What should he say?

"Hello?" Wesker asked again impatiently.

"Hi," Chris finally said.

Wesker was quiet for only a moment; "Christopher?"

"Yeah," Chris breathed, "Sorry if I'm bothering you," he said though he really wasn't.

"Not at all. Is there something you need?"

Wesker always sounded so confident but the man seemed truly confused by the phone call; though, he wasn't the only one. Silence hung between them and Chris listened to the steady sounds of Wesker shuffling around on the other end.

"I'm not sure," Christ finally said. His mouth didn't seem to be connecting with his mind properly and he was tempted to just hang up then.

"Are you alright?" Wesker asked slowly.

Chris paused and shook his head but it took him a second to realize the blond couldn't see him.

"No," Chris muttered.

"Would you like me to come over?" Wesker asked, again slowly, as if any faster would cause Chris to misunderstand the words.

"I don't want to bother you on a work night," Chris said tiredly.

"I'll send my company home and be right over."

"Company? No, no, you can't do that. I'm sorry, I didn't know you had someone over—" Chris' anxiety returned and he sighed heavily, pulling the phone from his ear for a long moment to recollect himself. He could hear Wesker distantly attempting to reassure him everything was fine but after Chris didn't respond, Wesker tried to pull him back to the phone.

Chris finally returned the receiver to his ear and took a long, deep breath.

"I will be over shortly," Wesker promised, "focus on your breathing."

And for the following ten minutes, Chris did just that. He inhaled slowly through his nose, then exhaled slowly through his mouth. When Wesker arrived, he didn't bother knocking and found Chris sitting on the couch.

Chris didn't look up and listened as Wesker moved across the room silently. The guilt clouding him kept him stock still, head down, and breathing slowly. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Piers' infected face staring back at him. Chris could hear the young sharpshooter telling him to live his life.

Chris just whispered, "No."

"How often did these episodes occur… before?" Wesker asked from somewhere beside Chris. The brunet ignored the question for now; it wasn't important. Wesker simply continued, "Are you aware of what PTSD is, Christopher?"

"Yes," Chris' gruff voice was low and raspy.

"Very well."

They sat in silence for longer than Chris needed. He wished he had never bothered to call Wesker. What was he thinking? He could have called anyone and somehow Wesker was the one he chose?

"I'm sorry I called you," Chris muttered and glanced toward the blond. At some point, Wesker had gotten up and made tea, though Chris doesn't remember. The brunet had a sup sitting in front of him, still steaming.

"There is no need to be apologetic. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is nothing simple."

"I've been suffering for years. At one point, I got lost. Piers found me—drunk. He brought me back and I didn't have another—uh—" Chris stumbled over his words.

"Episode?" Wesker asked.

"Yeah," Chris said, " I didn't have another episode until he died. I watched him die three months ago. It's still so new to me."

"How did he die?" Wesker asked simply.

Chris looked at him. His strong gaze stung with tears and he blinked. Nobody else was around, he realized. Chris had nobody else.

Jill was gone.

Claire probably wouldn't understand.

So, Chris told Wesker how Piers died. Chris made sure to leave out some information but gave Wesker a story as in-depth as he could.

"Piers died a hero," Chris finished.

"You are no less than him because you survived," Wesker assured calmly.

"I should have done something," Chris exhaled, "It should have been me."

"Why do you believe that?" Wesker asked, sipping at his tea.

"Look at me, Wesker. I was once a great leader but now—" Chris sighed. "I'm a damn alcoholic. I saved the world and couldn't handle it so I forgot. I was lost for so long and Piers found me at my lowest. He still saw a spark in me. I wish he had left me in that bar," Chris whispered.

"You will come back from this, Christopher. You will." Wesker's words were strong and matter-of-fact. Anyone would find trouble debating against the blond.

Chris would come back from this.

He had it because Wesker said it.

"What do you care?" Chris asked finally.

Internally, nothing the blond did could persuade Chris that Wesker was anything but pure evil. The blond looked different, of course. His hair was a dirty blond instead of platinum and the stress lines arounds his young grey eyes were less noticeable. He looked younger but the man kept his holier-than-thou attitude.

"What have I done to prove otherwise, Christopher?" Wesker asked curiously. He leaned forward, resting his usually stock straight back.

Chris watched Wesker move and realized—Wesker was comfortable.

Chris chuckled harshly and shook his head.

"What haven't you done?" Chris asked, leaning back.

"Have we not been through this? Is it fair to blame me for things I have no done?"

"You did do them. I saw you, Wesker," Chris growled and stood up as his frustration got the best of him, "I saw you betray me! I saw you on Rockford Island, I watched Jill risk her life to take you down, and I watched as you forced her to fight for you! Chris was pacing but stopped. "I can't trust you. I never will be able to trust you."

"I see," Wesker nodded curtly and straightened. There was a silence after that. Chris fought the urge to say something but Wesker seemed content staying silent.

Chris was so tired by this point. He could feel the emotional exhaust wearing on him. The feeling began with a tingling against his spine; he immediately recognized this as anxiety. The fear of being alone haunted him. The ringing in his ear began and he sighed so heavily it hurt.

"I'm so alone," he said finally when he wasn't able to shake off the feeling.

It came out in a whisper.

Wesker's gaze softened and he slowly stood. Chris flinched ever so slightly when Wesker took a step towards him. Then, the blond took another; and another. Before Chris even realized, Wesker was standing in front of him.

Wesker slowly grabbed Chris' shoulders and looked him straight in the eye as he spoke;

"You are not alone, Chris."

"You don't understand," Chris said, his voice barely above the whisper it was before.

He pulled at Wesker's grip but the blond didn't budge. Chris shook his head and focused on anything but Wesker's grey hard eyes—he chose to stare at the blank wall behind the couch. The grip just hardened.

"Does it matter whether I understand? I am here with you, right now. You are not alone, "Wesker waited and Chris met his eyes again. "I am here," he repeated.

"For how long," Chris chuckled harshly.

"For as long as you require," Wesker promised. The two held the gaze for a long moment before Wesker said, "I'm going to kiss you."

The words were a statement.

It was one of Wesker's matter-of-fact statements.

Chris didn't say anything because he was somewhere between shock and confusion.

Wesker leaned in, tilting his head as he closed the distance between them. Chris suddenly felt dizzy and his eyes closed. Chris didn't try to fight against the blond's grip. His lips were pressed against Wesker's.

And then it was over.

Chris could already feel his head and body buzzing. He had no time to process the thought of enjoying or disliking it. He didn't question his sexuality. There was nothing _to_ question.

It just… happened.

"I think…" Chris began but got lost in his own words.

What did he think, exactly?

"I think…" Chris tried again, "I think you should leave," Chris muttered. Wesker had only pulled back a little and the two were inches apart.

Chris scanned Wesker's eyes but they were downturned.

"Yes," Wesker said.

Chris couldn't recall Wesker moving but he remembered hearing the door close.

Chris slowly made his way into his room. He removed his shirt and pants and sat on his bed with his head in his hands. He was surprisingly calm for once. There was no questioning his future or his past or how he got where he was. And the best part was…

He didn't feel so alone.

Chris understood just as well as anyone else that Wesker would eventually betray him. However, as long as both of them were getting something out of the arrangement, everything would work out.

Wesker definitely wanted out of his situation with Umbrella; that much Chris knew and could depend on so up until then, they would be great. After that, Chris didn't need Wesker but Wesker also didn't need Chris.

The two would definitely turn on each other.

So there was no trust but perhaps there didn't need to be trust.

Chris chuckled at the thought and leaned back until his back hit the cold blanket beneath him.

Chris could see the difference in Captain Albert Wesker; the eyes and the youth… But that didn't mean Wesker was any different. Albert Wesker was still a vicious killing machine; nothing more than a comic book villain trying to take over the world.

Sitting up, Chris sighed and stood. He began getting dressed after realizing he wouldn't sleep that night and quickly left his room—just as the phone rang.

"Hello?" he asked, though he knew who would be on the other line.

"Christopher," Wesker said quietly, "I just wanted to make sure you are alright."

"Yeah, of course I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"I wanted to be sure I did not make things worse for you," Wesker said.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Anything else?"

"I suppose not. Have a good night, Chris."

"You too, Captain."

Chris waited for Wesker to hang up and once the click was heard, he followed suit. Chris exhaled carefully, grabbed his jacket, and put on his shoes.

He would have to run off this frustration.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: 4 jobs, school, a sick mother, and a new puppy. Yeesh! I'll save the apologies for later. See ya in another 4 months (Hopefully kidding). Real fast, just to address some of the comments and reviews I'm getting asking whether I've given up—nope! I love Endless Numbered Days and I write bits and pieces in my off time. I will see this through to the end!**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

**Concentration is a Fine Antidote to Anxiety**

_**Jack Nicklaus**_

Chris walked into work the following morning just as the clock hit seven. He waved to the clerk- a habit that he had quickly fallen back into shortly after returning to Raccoon City—and then made his way through the police department. He sometimes wondered if there was anything he could do to stop Chief Irons from doing whatever the hell he was doing in his office but Chris could only remember so much about Leon's report. Of course there was a secret room somewhere in Irons' office but there was no way he could find it in his current position so he simply kept quiet—for now. Perhaps he would speak to Wesker about the matter.

Chris quickened his step as Wesker crossed his mind.

The brunet had acquired little sleep the night before but he didn't care _too_ much. Chris couldn't remember the last time he was losing sleep over another person—oh right, it was Piers. Chris sighed.

At the very least, this was more positive.

Chris established he didn't have any real feelings for Albert Wesker but the kiss certainly was enjoyable. After hours of running it through his head, Chris came to the conclusion that he was lonely. Gender wasn't too much of an issue with him, if he was honest. A blowjob or handjob from another man wouldn't put the gay nail in the gay coffin but, again, he didn't really care.

If Chris was honest, and last night he decided to be, then he would admit just how frustrated he was with… well… everything and maybe a little side action wouldn't hurt.

That was what he decided the previous night, anyway, and it had made sense then but walking into the STARS office suddenly made him much less sure of himself.

His team members were at their respective desks—quiet and secluded.

Chris inched towards his own desk and passively peered into Wesker's office. Wesker was sitting at his desk with the telephone receiver pressed to his ear. The door was closed but Chris could tell by Wesker's stiff demeanor what the call was about—Umbrella. Chris watched Wesker through the glass as the blond spoke. Wesker's eyes were downturned to his desk as he listened intently to the person speaking—most likely Chief Irons. Wesker suddenly glanced up, meeting Chris' gaze.

Chris was caught off guard and looked away quickly, turning his attention to his desk. The desk top was just as he had left it—in shambles. Chris was never very organized when he was in his younger years but he grew out of that once everything… happened. Losing his friends put him into a state that he never shook; Everything had to be organized.

This was different, though.

This wasn't his life.

It didn't feel like it, anyway.

He remembered so much but if his past was being altered—especially so drastically- then shouldn't he remember these things happening? Wouldn't his memory be altered?

He sat in his office chair and shrugged off his jacket. Jill entered not long after, flashing him one of her smiles as she passed.

"How're you?" she asked, dropping her purse onto her desk.

Chris hummed and shrugged, "You?" he asked.

"Same," she sighed. "I'm not excited for our training session. We're finally moving on from disarming and into melee," she muttered unenthusiastically.

"I'm not too excited for that, either."

"I bet," Jill responded casually—though a gleam appeared in her eye that wasn't there a moment prior.

"Why do you say it like that?" Chris asked.

"Because," her voice dropped to a whisper as she eyed Wesker's office, though Chris didn't look, "Captain Wesker always uses you as an example during our practices. Don't you notice?"

"No he doesn't," Chris defended quickly. His eyes drifted carefully back towards Wesker who was still on the phone and looking at him, "Does he?"

Jill chuckled but didn't respond. Instead, she sat in her computer chair and woke her computer before beginning to work.

Chris remembered Jill being this childish in the beginning of their friendship but she quickly grew up as she was forced into serious situation after serious situation. Chris could easily recall how easily Jill had gotten along with Claire who was only slightly younger than both of them.

Jill always dealt with things better than Chris through the years and Chris sometimes envied her for it. She easily recovered from the Raccoon City incident—she used her anger to keep fighting. Chris supposed that's what kept him fighting, as well (besides Claire, of course) but everything changed when she was presumed dead. Even then, Jill bounced back and was right back with the BSAA before anyone could even ask what happened.

Chris wasn't so lucky.

He never was.

Chris chuckled to himself.

"Stop watching me, creep," Jill said jokingly.

Chris gave a short laugh and shrugged, "Sorry. Lost in thought."

"I can see that," Jill laughed.

"Stop flirtin' you two," Barry shot at them, though the smirk across his lips had both Jill and Chris rolling their eyes. Brad just chuckled quietly, as usual.

A deep throat clearing pulled their attention towards Wesker's office doorway. The blond stood in the center with his arms folded and his jaw clenched. Chris could see a vein protruding against the pale skin of the blond's forehead and the usual dark circles under Wesker's eyes were darker.

"Redfield."

Wesker spoke Chris' name quietly and sternly.

The blond wasn't angry at Chris.

Chris didn't question him—this wasn't the time. He simply stood and followed Wesker into his office. The blond closed the door and then the blinds. Chris didn't sit and neither did Wesker. The two stood several feet apart for a long while as Wesker faced toward the window.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked finally.

He felt as if he was standing there for hours but, really, he had only been there a minute. Chris never enjoyed being near Wesker when he was angry. The two always ended up in some sort of fight, especially during their STARS days but it just wasn't safe especially now.

"Irons doesn't believe I am _committed_ and has _expressed _his concerns to anyone that will listen," Wesker took a sharp inhale; "He never ceases to prove his stupidity."

"So what does that mean?"

"Spencer is watching. I have spent less time at the facility as of late and Spencer is not easily deceived," Wesker muttered carefully.

The blond finally turned to look at Chris.

"Kill him," Chris said.

The words came so simply but the words felt foreign to his lips. Ozwell E. Spencer was evil and deserved a fate far worse than death but somewhere within Chris, he still believed in real justice.

Somewhere…

"I cannot simply kill him," Wesker scoffed.

"Why? You killed Marcus."

Wesker froze and the two exchanged glances.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked again.

"I—" the blond chuckled darkly and shook his head as the anger had suddenly drained from him, "I forget how knowledgeable you are on topics that could not possibly involve you."

"I am BSAA's finest for a reason."

"I believe that," the blond stated seriously.

"Anyway," Chris said, turning from the blonde's stare, "Why can't you just kill him?"

"I have yet to kill Marcus; though, Spencer has plans," Wesker answered.

"And how does Birkin feel about killing someone?"

"William was less than pleased at the idea but Spencer was persuasive."

"Of course," Chris sighed. "So why not kill both?"

"William could never pull the trigger by himself; he is simply incapable of such a task."

"I could do it," Chris said suddenly.

The idea of being able to wipe out a large portion of the Umbrella Corporation in a single swipe was impossible to pass up—the two could do it with such ease.

Wesker had his reasons to betray Chris—that much was painfully obvious—but Wesker could be free with Chris' help and that gave Chris some sort of advantage.

"Perhaps," Wesker muttered in thought. "Yes, I believe you could assist." Wesker hummed to himself as he thought before a smirk crossed his lips, "Yes," he breathed. "With a bit of planning, I believe we could very well change our futures."

"Hopefully for the better," Chris sighed. "Sometimes," he began, "I worry my attempting to stop the future I know will create a terrifying chain reaction. What if I end up getting someone killed because I couldn't let things play out the way they were supposed to?"

Wesker moved towards his desk, visibly much more relaxed than before. He sat in his office chair and motioned for Chris to sit across from him. Chris sat and crossed his legs, leaning onto the left arm rest of the red chair.

"That's quite the consideration—very understandable, of course," Wesker said. "Take solace in knowing you understood the risk and felt your actions were just."

"It's not that easy," Chris muttered but shrugged, "it isn't important right now. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

Wesker didn't seem content with that answer but, honestly, neither was Chris. The brunet knew himself quite well—despite his knowledge of his far past escaping him currently—and he knew the horrors that would await him if he somehow managed to get Jill or Barry killed—or worse; Claire.

Chris swore under his breath as the silence lingered and his thoughts ran rapidly.

"Stop thinking," Wesker said, slow and stern.

"It's not that easy," Chris said again.

"Anxiety is anything but _easy_, Christopher. The stress you have endured will continue to haunt you if you make no attempt to escape it."

"You don't think I haven't tried?" Chris snapped. He rubbed his temples and he fought the urge to remember the time before the post-traumatic stress disorder ever set in.

Killing Wesker was just the straw that broke Chris—it was one hell of a straw, though. Chris remembered the helicopter ride back to base so well—too well. He could still hear the loud whipping of air against the propellers of the helicopter. The buzzing in his ear told him that his connection to the BSAA was back on—probably thanks to Josh, now that he thought about it.

After making sure Josh could handle flying home by himself, Jill sat down beside Sheva. Everyone was deathly quiet. Chris could vaguely remember Sheva speaking to him once or twice; Chris couldn't recall if he responded or not but she never pushed. Jill mostly spoke to Josh and Sheva but never really directed anything to Chris. The two had been through this so many times and maybe she felt it too—Chris was breaking.

Chris ignored the talking in his earpiece and continued ignoring it until the helicopter landed at BSAA headquarters. He was dirty, tired, and dizzy—but he was immediately ambushed by his higher ups for information. He shook his head and pushed them aside. Jill rushed after him but Chris escaped her at the elevator.

The BSAA headquarters was nothing more than a very, very large office building—but Chris wasn't heading to his office. He was heading home.

And that's where he had stayed for several weeks before getting a plane ticket and leaving.

Chris blinked and realized Wesker was staring at him. Chris was breathing heavily—gasping—and his head was spinning. The distinct feeling of dread sat in the pit of his stomach like a heavy ball of gas. He was sweating despite the room being somewhat cool and the small breeze felt wonderful on his trembling body.

Chris groaned and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He leaned forward and could hear Wesker shifting in his spot as he kept his eyes planted to the flooring beneath him. Chris had to stay grounded to get through the panic attack.

Knocking at the office door stopped any communication from happening between the two of them and Wesker got up to deal with them.

Chris ignored the two as he quickly pulled himself together. He wiped the sweat from his face by smearing it against the inner collar of his t-shirt. The trembling eased away as he sat there in blissful silence. Wesker had stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him, leaving Chris alone.

He touched his back to the chair and allowed his head to lull back. Chris blinked once, then twice, before realizing how calm he had become. He stared at the paneled ceiling in welcomed silence. The racing thoughts had slowed and he had grown numb as he counted the holes in each panel to himself.

A tingling sensation spread down his spine and he sighed to himself.

Wesker returned shortly after Chris had recovered enough to sit back up. When the blond entered the room, Chris was holding the picture of Wesker and Birkin in his hand.

"You enjoy that photograph far too much," the blond muttered as he rounded the desk and sat. He was holding a plastic bottle of water. The paper wrapped around the outer edge of the bottle said 'Arklay Mountain Spring Water' with a generic picture of a mountain range; in tiny letters, 'sponsored by The Umbrella Corporation' could be seen beneath the title. "Feeling better?"

Wesker offered the bottle to Chris, which he took.

"Yeah, I guess. I never really had these episodes before. I just got lost and when Piers found me I… Well, I got better. I had rough times but nothing like this," Chris said before opening and taking a drink of water. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Of course. I imagine you are quite exhausted?"

"Not really," Chris lied. He felt weaker than he ever had.

"Well—" Wesker didn't sound convinced, "—you can spend some time in here. Our training session will not begin until three and I have paperwork to file for Umbrella that perhaps you could assist with."

* * *

><p>Chris spent the remaining several hours sitting in Wesker's office with paperwork splayed out in front of him. Wesker explained what each work form was—most were entries from various experiments being constructed. Chris couldn't stand reading over some of them considering some included human testing (though, Wesker insisted <em>most<em> of them offered themselves). Somewhere along the way, the two had fallen into a comfortable silence as Chris helped organize the papers.

There was a small part of this situation that Chris enjoyed—he wasn't going to lie. He was young again with a way to redo his life and Chris was absolutely going to take every chance he could. Unfortunately, if that were true, Wesker should be dead.

He couldn't help but feel he was allowing Wesker to draw him in yet again; Chris had to remind himself that there was no trust between two—only history. Chris held nothing but disdain for the man across from him—

But the kiss really threw him off.

He had, more than casually, decided to ignore that it happened but eventually he would have to think about it and, he supposed, sitting secluded with the blond was the time. While Chris wanted to avoid the thought altogether—he couldn't because he had enjoyed it.

Not so much that he would jump across the desk and kiss the man, but certainly enough for bubbling guilt to twist inside him.

Chris was staring at the same piece of paper for well over the normal time but Wesker hadn't seemed to notice yet. Shifting in his seat, Chris attempted to readjust himself but couldn't manage it well enough to accompany his newfound discomfort.

The tingling began in the tips of his fingers and steadily spread through his veins. The prickle hit Chris' spine and a wave of shame engulfed him. By now, Wesker should have noticed but Chris couldn't bring himself to look at the blond. His eyes, instead, stayed on the piece of paper in his hand.

This was anxiety, Chris realized.

His disorder had never hit him like this—but this wasn't his elder body. His older body had been through far more than his younger body. This wasn't the same brain; so his anxiety had to be presenting differently.

"It can never happen again," he said quickly and under his breath. It was a forced statement but the statement had to be said.

"What can never happen again?" Wesker asked.

Chris finally looked up and realized Wesker had probably noticed the anxiety attack taking place and was just waiting it out. The blond was sitting across from him with the papers pushed aside and his fingers intertwined atop his desk.

"What happened last night... It just can't. I can't have that weighing on my conscious and I think boundaries need to be set."

"Very well. I will not kiss you again. Does that satisfy you?"

Chris sighed and gave a nod.

"Yeah, yeah it does."

The tingling against his spine was finally beginning to recede and the grey cloud that had loomed over him was beginning to fade. Soon, he was left with Wesker in a quiet room with nothing but the sound of shuffling papers and the occasional glance from the blond.

"Feeling better?" Wesker asked after Chris hadn't moved.

"I guess," Chris muttered, "—feeling a little drained."

"Exhaust is quite common with anxiety disorders," Wesker stated as he tossed the paper he was holding onto his desk. "Have you considered taking medication?"

"I took medication before but—" Chris paused and the two exchanged glances.

"Go on…" Wesker urged.

"I stopped taking my medication once the depression hit; in other words, when Piers died. The worst thing about his death was no matter how depressed I became, no matter how much I wanted to die, I couldn't give up because if I did then his death would be for nothing. I couldn't imagine letting Piers down like that. He deserved better—hell, he deserved life." Chris could feel hot tears against his eyes and he rubbed at them hard to escape them before continuing, "Sometimes, I think I was the one who was meant to die. I should have died so long ago. You should have killed me in the beginning. Every day was a fight…" Chris trailed off and the room grew quiet.

"My apologies if—"

"I don't really want you to say anything right now, Wesker." Chris hadn't realized how angry he was until the words came out in a mild snap. "You don't know what it was like going to bed hoping never to wake up and when my eyes did open every day—the energy that it took to get out of bed was all of the energy I could have. Every day was a burden. Every breath was a waste."

The silence between them stood strong and Chris kept his eyes trained on the floor where the carpet met the floorboard. He couldn't explain it if he tried but he knew that if he were to look away from that place where the carpet hairs stood against the dusty white base of the wall then he would simply break down again.

But dammit, he was stronger than that.

"I apologize if last night caused this. I was simply attempting to help."

"I don't understand remotely how that would help," Chris laughed harshly and shook his head. He finally looked at Wesker. "I guess I don't understand your thinking."

"Several days ago, we had a meet up planned. Both of us understood well enough that it was a date but we avoided the term. That morning, however, you arrived on my doorstep. I was surprised, to say the least, but you seemed nervous. I invited you inside and we spoke."

Wesker paused there and Chris could tell the male was assessing him. Chris could never tell if the blond was lying so he feigned neither—

"I see. Go on."

"We spoke about several things in that span of only ten minutes. However, we concluded that living in the moment was best for both of us and to simply act as we felt necessary. This memory is fresh in my mind. The conversation may be gone from yours but I spoke with sincerity that morning. I simply thought you would remember."

Chris couldn't remember most of the details of that meeting but the brunet very much remembered the conversation. He could easily recall the two of them sitting in Wesker's living room, though the details of his house were blurred and masked by years. The feelings between them had been forgotten for years—replaced, instead, with hate and the need for revenge. Chris had always assumed everything had been a lie, and still he believed that, but his younger self did care about Albert Wesker in a way that was familiar to him only now that he had experienced a similar feeling with Piers Nivans.

Piers was different, though. Piers was better.

Something within Chris churned at the thought of comparing the blond to someone as worthy as Piers but those were the only two that Chris ever felt like this towards. His feelings were unexplainable but strong and warm. They were comforting during trying times and made him hopeful even in the darkest days.

He couldn't call it love, that was silly.

But it was _something_.

"I remember. It was so long ago…" Chris hummed quietly to himself. "To this day, it was one of the best acts you ever pulled, Wesker."

"It was never an act. I am a very good liar but—" Wesker sighed and straightened. "You don't believe me, of course, so never mind that. I see little point in dwelling."

Chris gave a stiff nod and the two continued in silence.

Unfortunately, Wesker wasn't only a good liar. The blond knew how to make people think and Chris was thinking hard, now.


End file.
